Crash Focus
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: Sometimes they had to wonder if the world missed the right way, if ever it was possible to slip from the path. For it was certainly true for the track: none of them were going to allow him the focus he needed. So it would have to be crash. Yes, they'd go with crash for now. Yes, it was easily a far sight more than simply that, but he wasn't going to think on it anymore.
1. I: One

So, this is one of the things I was able to write while on my travels. I have the first few chapters done, but I'll upload them in intervals as it should allow me to finish this piece before you all run out of reading material.

For those of you interested – it currently takes up 109 pages in Word.

I'm using TAG ages as they are currently reported to be (or were when I started writing this), any quieres, take them up with ITV not me, I'm just going off what they've told me and how I interpret what they've told me (you can alter them in your own minds if you like) – Scott, 23; John, 22; Virgil, 21; Gordon, 19 Alan, 15 (except for this one, they have Alan down as 14, but I'm certain they've contradicted themselves somewhere).

Anyhow, enjoy.

* * *

"When your drive is moving your purpose, focus must hold the wheels else you might miss the way. And do you know what that means? Avoid Crash!. Stay focused!"  
― Israelmore Ayivor

"I didn't tell him that even after a crash, a key still fits the ignition. There just isn't anything left to drive."  
― Sarah Kay

* * *

His initial thought had been along the lines of, _'What the hell!'_

 _Dad, forgive the language_. The situation called.

John had sent them the call as soon as he could, but it couldn't have been foreseen, they couldn't have made it there quicker, and even if they could, there didn't seem to be any sign of something they could have done. Not unless someone had spotted the problem earlier, reported it, made any call for help. Yes, the second eldest monitored the world, but not every tragedy could be,seen as it was being formed.

Okay, maybe someone could have prevented it, but that someone wasn't them. He was one hundred percent certain of that; he wasn't going to let any of them shoulder the blame for something they had no power over, International Rescue or not.

Basically, this one was a ready-made disaster, already in the process, already on a collision course with simply too little time.

Maybe the question he should be asking himself about all of it was _'how?'_ but there were too many lines of questioning which could be borne from that word alone and that would be one too many distractions. He could ask that question later until he was blue in the face. It would do no help to anyone now.

When they'd arrived they'd only just been able to pull together a plan to halt an absolutely major catastrophe, considering they already sort of had that on hand.

No, Scott only breathed again when Thunderbird One was one the ground beside the tracks, safely away from the expansive field of debris. Virgil was still reporting his struggle at finding a landing site, even one with enough space for him to safely deposit the pod and leave Two hovering, however unappealing that option was to the pilot. The eldest knew in a situation like this, the middle child would always prefer to be on the ground with his brothers and he had strengths they could utilise fully. Right now, though, they just needed to be able to become grounded and that seemed like an agonising challenge.

So, here he was, alone on the ground until Virgil could either land, lower the pod or at least find a way to get Alan and Gordon down here. Don't get him wrong, he could keep a level head, he could make a start, he didn't have an issue with one-man rescues… no, his issue with this- with the magnitude.

The magnitude he had to deal with _alone_.

He left Thunderbird One as secure as possible before heading out. The GDF were flying over-head now, late to the party as per usual, attempting to work out if they could be of any assistance. The local authorities had also come out and they – with their relative willingness - might actually be of more use.

The whole scene though, well, it was an absolute disaster, a complete mess.

The closer he came the more he saw.

The more he saw – however 'clean' you could try to claim it – the quicker he wished to pivot and step away.

But they were International Rescue. This was what they did. International Disaster. If he turned away, who would help them? No, there was no chance he could walk away from hundreds of lives, when surely some had to have survived. Surely?

It was hard though and as he approached the maze of police cars parked off road - the ever-nearing blue sirens and red painted trucks, the mass of resources still on their way out - the more he could feel his heart beating. His mind racing away from him. His control slipping. His concentration dying, no correction: a thing of the past.

The small gap between the authorities and the track was probably for safety. The track itself was a mess and the land behind it was far worse off. He tried not to think about the belly of the vehicle he could see, the underneath you should never be able to view unless you were an engineer.

 _Come on, Scott. Pull it together!_

If he let his eyes stray, they instantly wondered down the body of the long stream of carriages before halting. He didn't have x-ray vision, but he felt as though his imagination was trying hard to replicate that, to put visions into his head.

"Um," Shaky voice, far, far too shaky. Not the voice of the leader of International Rescue, of the man people would be looking to in their hour of need. He cleared it again, regardless of the fact the simple sound travelled over comms and tried anew. "John… Where am I supposed to start?"

He honestly couldn't work it out now he was on the ground. It was like being stuck in the middle of a large field of fog. He worked better in the air. In the air, he'd had so many ideas, but all of them were just buried by the rush, the overbearing cloud of black looming. The journey from Thunderbird One – on his long legs with no equipment – was mere minutes, but it felt like it had taken hours, hours dragging on and draining him. As though he could have aged moons. He hadn't even started the physical work yet.

He couldn't afford to be reckless now, but he did need to be decisive and bold, neither of which he was going to be capable of at this rate. Thus, the only option he could see was this one, the one he hated resorting to; cut the mind out of the equation and rely on the brain of another. There was only one he'd trust that to at these moments, the most sensible and level-headed of them all, and the voice was more melodious than he believed it ever had been.

"I would suggest finding someone to liaise with from the authorities. Hold on, I have a name from my preliminary communications. Uh, no Captain, I wouldn't advise losing altitude in your current position."

"John?" He wondered briefly if their calm, better under pressure work had lost his marbles. And that really could have made the decision for him; he'd have taken them all home in a flash, because he couldn't even predict how his brothers were going to react to _this,_ a scene which looked completely different up there. If the only one of them without the terrific* and terrible ground view was going to flail, then yes, they were done.

"Sorry Scott, I'm doing a lot of cross-channelling right now."

"You're a communications expert." It wasn't just a compliment. It was the truth. It was a reminder, because he had enough sense to realise that he needed to keep John in some sort of bubble, away from the spiral he'd certainly been unexpectedly caught in. But still, even now John didn't sound panicked, as such, and that led him to believe that there was hope yet for this rescue. His direct younger was trying to give him explanations, not excuses, not explosions. Yes, that was the John Tracy he knew.

"Yes, but I'm running short on resources even with EOS. I'm trying to keep my focus on scanning the wreckage. I'm filtering calls too. Leaving you on an open channel where possible saves some of those dwindling resources."

And that was reasonable. Even under pressure, it would of course be John finding the simplest of solutions.

"Understood John. You were getting me a name?"

"Yes, a Police Chief, Martini." And none of it had distracted the red-head from the task for even a moment it seemed as the name slipped effortless from his tongue, as though he'd read it ages ago and waited for the right moment to relay it.

Yet, for a moment, he wondered if John had sensed every single emotion circulating his bloodstream, purely from listening to his voice, so that just maybe this was meant to serve as a reprieve. A silly and inconvenient, but miniature reviving reprieve. Thus he'd begun to think it was a smart move, he'd chuckled and then remembered that John didn't joke, not even on a slow day. He'd almost chocked on the remainders of his laughter. It definitely wasn't appropriate for him to be seen doing such at a scene like this. Besides, he didn't want to go around telling _everyone_ they had a brother in a space station by way of explanation.

"As in the drink?" He enquired, trying to bring back all seriousness. For once, and surprisingly considering what he'd established as his mental state, it actually felt as though he had some control return, some ability to work with the seriousness he needed, especially for this.

"Yes, as in the drink. I bet later you could use one."

"Later John."

He shook his head as he re-started his steady approach, John's small humour a welcoming effect, ensuring he was perfectly ground into this moment. And he was now; he felt something of the Scott Tracy he'd always known himself to be returning; a leader, an elder brother, a protector. Something of the man who could work through this. Maybe not his usual unflappable and unshakeable, but definitely a far sight better than he'd been when he stopped short, head spinning, lost and alone and completely reliant on a brother thousands of miles away to restart his senses.

"Later, I think I could use a few. I'll let you know. Keep me updated."

"Will do." And with that John was gone. Resources needed to go where they were needed he supposed. But at least, at least they'd left each other on the same line, on a working wave, able to trust that something stupid wasn't about to roll out as a plan of action.

It was a few steps which brought him out to the mass of land before the cracks and finding the man he needed wasn't a hard task – considering the labelled jackets they all now wore – and he found himself a great deal more composed this time. Words actually came out of his mouth at the right volume and pitch with formulated vowels and consonants.

"Hi, International Rescue."

The greying man turned to him instantly, throwing out a hand. He shook it out of politeness, but really he just wanted to get started on this rescue. This hulk of a rescue. He didn't like not knowing things and he was sure the moment some knowledge made its way under his belt, he'd be back to full functioning capacities.

"Oh, International Rescue! Police Chief Sewell Martini. At your service. Let me know how best we can assist you."

Well at least the man was to the point and focused. They were two things which were going to help keep his wandering mind on track. In fairness, the man seemed as though he'd weathered the job for a few years and experience always served as the best aid to fall back on. It gave you so many strengths and strategies you'd never have found otherwise.

What he needed right now was simple and he was hoping the team which had been on the ground for longer than he would know. That maybe they'd figured it out by now. It seemed however, that the world greatly relied on International Rescue, and that he wasn't the only one having his clarity pulled into question. He had no doubt from looking at the man just how good he was at his job. But if you were to go on the next few moments…

"At the moment I just need a starting point."

"Well…" Yes, Scott had predicted that would follow, a completely staunched interaction for a situation which had no calm, simple or easy calling. Given the choice right now, he'd rather be slap bang in the middle of a hurricane. At least they tended to have known solutions and followed a pattern. But this, he'd expected. He wasn't sure from looking where to divert his attention. This man wasn't sure either.

Whereas this might usually enrage him, he could hardly blame the man for it, because that would mean he had to blame himself too. And besides, it hardly seemed like the right situation for maintained level-headedness or quick onlooking decisions.

The central track was a busy one and something had gone wrong with the signalling – or possibly tampered with, they were yet to be sure.

A cargo train had merged at the wrong signal point, crashing from the opposite direction into an eleven-carriage passenger train. It had to be the metro service though, didn't it? Biggest train of the winter evening rush hour, largest capacity and ultimately an incredibly fast long selection of carriages ranging from A-K which just weren't up to snuff. Looking back, he was just glad they'd arrived in time to be able to help somewhat. The following passenger train - only six carriages luckily – had been rapidly approaching the crash site, unaware and clearly unwarned. By the time they had been warned, there was no way they could stop in time. It had been a large series of last minute tug and pull manoeuvres between Thunderbirds One and Two (helpfully coordinated by John), which eventually succeeded in forcing the train to break safely at high speed.

It made you wonder what the staff were doing at moments like this. A third train should never have nearly been involved.

The passengers and crew of that train were currently being evacuated, however they weren't his focus. Yes, some of them had minor injuries, yes, they were shaken, but they were alive. John had checked in with them and reported no fatalities and luckily no major casualties from the intense and sudden breaking force, serious applied pressure without warning against high speed. Still, as long as everyone left the train safely, then the shell could remain there until someone was able to see to shifting it. Right now though, _they_ were needed elsewhere.

As much as it looked like complete carnage and he felt sick at the constant waves of guilt rushing through him – the waves which reminded him they'd been able to do _nothing_ \- everytime he looked at the disaster, he knew he had to push on.

So he swallowed those feelings and decided he had to take control. He had to be Scott Tracy, not just Jeff Tracy's son, but the Scott International Rescue knew. There was a time for emotion and if he was going to deal with this mess – for lack of and the fact there was no better word – with the clarity, confidence and decisiveness it required, he needed that to be the last thing in his mind. Emotion didn't always work in partnership with impulse and it could easily get in the way of split second calls. He needed a level head and emotional reactions skewed that to enough of a degree that his judgement would be impaired.

So here goes, judgement calls were starting now. No backtracking, no long hard thinking, just his usual burning impulse and quick studies. He could make a start alone, but he couldn't work fast enough. Thus, until everyone else could get here, he'd have to make use of other resources. After all, they'd all managed to pull their way out here. He might as well utilise that. But that meant he needed to know where they stood.

"Right, do you have the fire services on board?" For a moment Martini seemed shocked at the sudden uprise in vocality, jolted into remembering the fellow presence at his side. He was still slightly frozen to the spot and looked pointedly and slowly from the wreckage to the building number of gearing up firefighters on the far-left side of them. He received a nod from a younger, standard uniformed officer and only then did his answer seem influenced.

It always was a steady process to draw your nerve back, he'd learnt that over the years.

"Yes they're on the ground with us, suiting up and waiting for instructions."

"Ok, so here's the plan. We're going to need to split into small teams and move through the train. If you could organise that between the local crews, I'm going to head in and make a start from the front. We'll prioritise all those alive, aiming to evacuate those with more serious injuries first. I'll see if we can get an open channel established. If they start working on a way into the back of the train, we should end up meeting in the middle."

He dreaded that. The middle had taken the utmost of the shunting, ending up more than a little concertinaed for lack of a better word. Yes, the whole train was pretty much of its track, completely knocked by the force, but the cargo train was still partially and unsteadily residing on the track above. Parts of the cargo trains carriages however, had split away, tumbling from the front onto the middle of the passenger train. He didn't dare consider how many fatalities would be found in the middle of the train and that was his reasoning for starting at either end.

The front and the back had flipped and derailed, but were mainly still intact, dented and damaged and not without battle scars, but definitely posing more hope of finding life.

"Right. Leave that to me." And with that the Chief was off, long purposeful strides carrying him. It washed over him briefly in those moments that he'd actually managed to _make_ a decision. A snap one. It gave him some hope that he wasn't going to just mess all of this up due to initially being a little shaken. Okay, a lot more than a little, but he wasn't going to announce that.

Regardless, he took the moments of aloneness to summon his courage.

Then he took the steps closer to the tracks and began to abandon every rule you were taught as a child. Stepping on the tracks was the quickest and only way really to get where he needed to. The call came as a complete surprise, but it wasn't an unwelcomed one. The closer he got to the train, the more his critical eye could see, the sooner he began to realise that he knew nothing about its structure or points of entry. It would have to be the next call he made. But for now, receiving this one had to mean something.

Or at least, that was his hope.

"Scott?"

He'd barely taken any steps at all. The voice rebounded from ear to ear and he was happy to keep that sound on repeat. It seemed like ages since the green giant had swooped away.

"Go on, Virge. And _please_ tell me you've found _somewhere_ to land?"

"I think I have." It was exactly what he'd wanted to hear, which for a moment made him wonder if it was pure delusion, however the words which followed made it a guarantee. "John's managed to help me locate a disused field. We're making our descent now and security has been coordinated."

They'd have to be very far away for John to bother with security in a time like this. Or maybe the GDF were insisting, attempting to sweeten some kind of deal. He'd gathered – from what little he heard referencing them earlier – that John wasn't best part pleased with the Global Defence Force at the moment.

Oppositely, he was more than pleased. He was ecstatic. Virgil, Gordon and Alan should all be on their way soon. Maybe they'd even make it before he finished up now!

"Great. I'll see you soon." It was just another piece in the puzzle, another burst of energy. The five of them together had always been more empowered than one of them on their own.

Virgil didn't sound like he shared that rising liveliness though and so it was short lived.

"I wouldn't hold out on the _soon_." His jaw dropped; he knew what was coming now. "We're quite a way away, but there isn't anywhere closer which is safe, large enough or stable. We're going to bring as much equipment as we can as soon as possible."

That was an unspoken promise. It just meant he had to keep going until then.

"Ok. I'm going to start on an evac of the passengers." He made that a definite, because it helped him find the motivation to carry on. He couldn't think of the negatives now, not right in the middle of a rescue like this. Negatives had never helped him focus and he _needed_ to focus.

"Right. Be careful Scott."

"FAB." He supposed it was only right for Virgil's voice to carry concern on that last note. None of them fared well being far apart on rescues. Now to address that second issue. "John?"

There was a beat.

"Here Scott. What do you need?" And that was the other thing with John. He had no idea what the younger might be dealing with up there, because panic was never given away in his tone of voice. It was just another thing which made him perfect for that role.

"I've just had the update from Virgil. For your knowledge, I'm heading into the wreckage now to search for survivors. I'll keep you in the loop and switch to an open channel when I find something. Do you have any notes for me?" He wanted a little bit of insight into the situation John was dealing with before he basically went onto radio silence.

"Nothing at the moment. I'm still trying to sort things with the GDF, but they can't get me a link to Colonel Casey."

That was strange. Colonel Casey was their main liaison with the GDF and her lack of presence was a striking sign in itself. Unless the woman had finally taken some of the holiday she deserved. Or it was plausible her attentions were directed to other things at the moment. Such as an alias starting with H. Still, it made no sense that they'd hold off John's communications from her. They were the ones she was usually almost sure to answer. The sound of their planes jets overhead was grating as well, to mention it.

He frowned, the lines directed jointly at the problems. The second one of course being he still had no clue how to scale the side of the train. He decided to just try random efforts until he made it somewhere. "Why are they so concerned anyway?"

"They're insisting on calling foul play." Did he catch a slip of tiredness sinking into John's tone? He ignored it, because he wasn't sure and he doubted John would appreciate a mention of it if it was.

"Is there enough evidence?" His voice strained slightly as he heaved himself up against the metal. It was soothing somehow - ironic of course – talking to John whilst exerting all his physical strength.

"That's the point: there's not. It's too early to tell anything really and the main focus should be on those involved in the accident. But they want to land and take a look. I'm trying to dissuade them, at least from landing so close."

Yeah, chuck on them the same walk Virgil, Gordon and Alan are currently undertaking if they're so desperate. He wasn't going to censor his bitterness or anger with them at the moment. He might even give the feedback if they continue to push him to be that way inclined.

"Too right. We barely managed to get Thunderbird One down so close. Can you direct them to the same location as Thunderbird Two?"

"I'm trying. They're not having any of it." From the sound of it, it seemed like 'trying' was an understatement, it certainly seemed like John was doing way more than that. It was easy for him to forget that sometimes; they all busted a gut when on rescues. Being in space didn't change that. John – as Alan always said – has eyes on _everything_ , but that means he actually needs to be using those _eyes._ "It's a stalemate unless I can get Colonel Casey on the line."

"Ok, John, keep trying." He felt worse than he usually did giving John yet another thing to look at. Usually, they could cope with the number of things requiring coordination on a rescue, but this was pushing the extremes, being an extreme case. He wondered if Grandma was helping John filter the calls they must no doubt be receiving still, all of which would hear that International Rescue couldn't come for them this time. Even if she was, the red-head was likely dealing with innumerous people still, watching a large amount of details for them, coordinating everything from oh so far away. "Can you do me a favour and keep an eye on all those scans? I'd like to know if anything changes."

He'd asked John before he landed for a list of details, to which the communications expert had promptly reeled off to him a comprehensive list; thermal and life scans, integrity and strength scans for the carriages, ID scans for all members of the arriving local crews, and of course he'd taken to monitoring the train routing for himself. _Just to be sure,_ John had assured him. It made him wonder what his younger brother suspected they could be faced with down there. Or maybe even who. Or whether it was some over-protective streak he'd inherited from his only older brother.

The extra task didn't seem to hit any note of concern though, and he marvelled at how John could appear – sound – so stress free. There wasn't even a waver or slight change of tone in his voice, just simple and to the point, relevant responses.

"Of course. I'll keep contacting you in intervals."

"FAB." He risked a glance over his shoulder; his eyes weren't met with the disorganisation he'd envisaged, but still, he saw efforts less coordinated then their own. And okay, in fairness, not everyone was part of an elite rescue team, but it was those scraped together efforts which could sometimes cause more trouble than they were worth. _One more task,_ he told himself, _I don't think John would quibble that._ "Keep an eye on the police and fire services as well? They're meant to be mobilising now, making their way from Carriage Eleven to meet me in the middle. I'd like to know how they get on too, if you have the time."

He wasn't going to issue demands to his brother. There was no need after all, when they practically lived on the same wavelength. For that was the other thing, manners often slipped on rescues, the general 'please' and 'thank you' that you might usually tag onto the end of a sentence. It was never because they didn't have them, simply due to the fact that they took more time to say. That, and they completely changed the playing field: they were domesticated words, they didn't belong here, other than from the mouths of the desperate people they came to aid. There was a long established silent understanding between the five of them that the words were just another of those unspoken things which occurred on rescues.

"FAB. Scott, as a last-minute pointer, I'd recommend you start from the engine cabin as opposed to the first carriage, I'm picking up a strong selection of vitals."

"Vital signs now?" That piqued his interest, not that he could linger on the exact dynamics of how it might suddenly be possible. As far as he was aware, Thunderbird Five could read life signs from that distance and vital signs if fed them from the ground. "I thought you could only get life signs?"

This time, there definitely might have been a smile heading into his vocals.

"EOS is focussing most of her capacitors on boosting our signals. We're marginally overloading our servers, but I'm directing all other calls to the appropriate organisations, so it shouldn't become a problem."

 _That_ was good thinking, but it also border-lined on reckless, which he preferred to be his territory and his alone. Even so, it wasn't true. At first, he'd simply hoped it was Alan's age which led him to be impulsive, but the more he saw, the more he realised that all his brother's shared that same recklessness, yet he was just the quickest to use it. John's reasoning and explanation made everything seem perfectly safe and sound, but he knew it still had to count as reckless. To an extent, for definite.

"FAB John, but I don't like it. Promise you'll stop if you start hitting disturbances." He couldn't make it a question. He didn't even want to think about the amount of specific problems which lived beneath that umbrella term. He _never_ wanted to, but least of all now, when they were away from home and unable to just jump aboard Thunderbird Three.

At least John was likely to heed his warnings.

"Loud and clear. Best of luck, Scott."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

He really meant that, considering he'd yet to really get anywhere, leverage wise at least. He was constantly weary of where he could or couldn't risk stepping, what he could risk utilising as a way up, and thus this whole time – after numerous attempts – he'd remained mostly on the ground.

Wreckage was the right word, but it wasn't the one he'd wanted to use. Whenever he thought of a wreck, he always remembered their father's accident – the one they'd never quite been able to have a wreck of their own for, the one they'd had nothing to bring home, not even a mere scrap of junk. And he knew they'd all have treasured that.

 _So,_ brief mental stock check, _can't be a catastrophe, or a wreck, or a disaster…_ Basically it couldn't be anything in his mental bank of labels, because none of them, just none of them were going to allow him the focus he needed. So it would have to be crash. Yes, they'd go with crash for now. Yes, it was easily a far sight more than simply _that_ , but he wasn't going to think on it anymore.

He couldn't afford to.

He shook his head as though it would help to bring back his usual clear, calm and leader head space - the one he needed more than ever on a rescue like this – and began to change his course. John had said to try the cabin.

It seemed luck was also going his way as he finally managed to lever himself up onto the side-now-top of the train. Then again, maybe not. He'd made it to the cabin alright, and the tinted windows were annoying, yes, but the only real problem was; no door. _Why the heck isn't there a door?_ Unless… _oh no._ He actually felt his heart sink.

He wasn't even certain they'd even disconnected the comms link, for it definitely felt as though he'd only heard his brother's voice moments ago, only asked him questions mere seconds earlier. "John, one last thing."

"Yes Scott?"

"Do you have the schematics for this train, because… I don't have door." It wasn't the ideal situation to fall into.

"Hold on. I have them here. There is one-" He hadn't doubted that for a second, but the beginning of its confirmation gave everything away.

"But let me guess, it's saying hello to the ground right about now?"

"Correct."

He could almost throw his hands into the air in a Gordon-esque motion. This was just getting better and better. No one in the world could try and slow down for two seconds to make things _safer_ , to try and make their lives and jobs _easier._ Typical world of today. There were so many people he could think of who could take a leaf out of Brains' book and right now it was the designer of this train for not putting in two doors!

"From the angle the whole train has gone over, you're only going to have door access to Carriages One and Eleven."

 _Please be joking, John!_

"That means for the main part of the evacuation, you're going to have to keep moving through the carriages."

He'd expected that to some degree, but really? John was being _serious_ about this? They had two supposedly stable doorways into this wreck? Who designed a train like that?

His new silent mantra wasn't working: then again, he should have known it wouldn't. John was the only Tracy who didn't really do _joking_. _Least_ of all when under pressure.

"There's no way that's going to be possible for everyone." He was certain they were going to come across an injury that simply wasn't ferriable through the disorganised wreck, the innumerous carriages twisted and laid out at multiple unappealing angles.

"Leave that to me, Scott, I'll dissect the plans in detail now and see what I can find for you. In the meantime, you need to make yourself a door."

It was a simple way of saying _'focus'. You're on the ground, do something. Leave the statistics alone._ And that was honestly what he needed to do.

Yes, a door.

"FAB." Lasering looked like the only option for a way in. He made a start and luckily the metal was caving in quite easily – _though_ , he considered momentarily, _is that really lucky?_ It was likely to explain the state of the crash however. Drawing himself out from inside his head, he narrowly managed to grab the folded edge before it tumbled into the cabin – that really wouldn't have been the best of first impressions. Throwing it aside he swung down from the newly created edge. The cabin space was small and his heart met his stomach this time as he noticed the state of the controls. The whole unit was still buzzing and frizzy with old static charges and he could guarantee the majority of the equipment would be shot. He didn't want to think about the state of the engine mechanics deep beneath them. He'd leave that to Brains for now.

"International Rescue." He called, knowing it was the customary greeting.

"Oh, I am glad to see you!" John was right, not that he'd been expecting the red-head to be wrong. It did prove however, that whatever he and EOS were attempting was working like a charm. The driver hardly seemed injured, but he did appear stuck. "I would have tried to make my own way out, but…"

Two words - seatbelt jammed. Oh, how he loved the modern world! He knew he'd end up ranting about all of this later to Brains, insisting they somehow found a way to influence and change whatever was going on in these people's heads.

"Hold on. I'll cut you free. Are you hurt at all?" He set about the small task, making their usual enquires as they went. Hopefully this could be dealt with quickly and it would be one walking wounded out of the way. It would at least be a start.

"No, no, I'm fine. I think I've just caught a shock from the controls." Sometimes that was the thing with a simple, standard and necessary question though, it led into monologues they didn't need to be privy to. "There was nothing I could do. Everything just went haywire and before I knew- bam! We've hit the ground. I'm stuck, my exits blocked, all I could do was wait. But that other train, it just came out of nowhere rushing towards us. There really was nothing I could do!"

"I don't doubt that for a second." Poor man, it couldn't be easy to sit at the helm of an event like this, but right now, he wasn't able to keep listening to the man's story. The police would deal with that and John would no doubt be listening in. If this was more than an accident they'd soon find out. Besides from that, the more he heard the more he struggled to push back the thought, _'what idiot put those trains on a head-on collision!'_.

It happened on few, rare occasions which he could recall, but now was one of those he just needed someone to shake him, shout at him, set him back on the right track. Because yes, he was floundering.

 _Hurry up and get here guys._

So rarely did he _wish_ for his brothers to be at a danger zone within. Heck, he'd rather be practically babysitting John-who-hated-gravity down here on the ground, if it meant he had someone at his side.

A satisfying click informed him of his success.

"There. Now let's get you out of here." The driver nodded, most enthusiastic. The climb out was considerably harder than the simple jump in, but there were plenty of damaged pieces of units and split metal from the side walls for them to use as footholds. By the time they were safely on the ground, the outside was a different story. He could hear the faint chatter of orders and practical discussion and there seemed to be a lot more movement. At least that meant the authorities had listened. Martini must have been waiting around for him to re-appear as he was by their side in seconds.

"We currently have two teams making an attempt to get into the back of the train. They have door access, but the door has jammed. They're trying to get the windows open in order to make contact with anyone still alive inside." He hated that expression, that very thought, for he needed to believe that some of the 589* odd passengers would still be alive. "The intact passenger train has been fully evacuated and medical services are all getting ready to assist."

"Great. This is the driver. Can you take him and see if you can get any insight into what happened?" The Chief nodded and the driver seemed barely able to halt his charge away from the zone. "I'm going to head back in and make a start on the carriages."

"Ok, good luck." He gave the man a small smile as he and the driver headed off, but he hated hearing the words. They were actually words International Rescue barely used in communications with each other, because luck never seemed to come through for them. When they did use them though, well… _true disasters_ were the only things he could ally them to.

Climbing back onto the top of the carriage wasn't easy and required a lot of rubble negotiating, not to mention upper body strength. He'd have to remember to pass people down where possible for this climb was not going to be repeatable for the entirety of the rescue. For a moment he could only stare down at the door, hoping and praying it would open.

 _Please let something start to go our way!_

This rescue was going to be a clear nightmare if not, because it was already going that way.

"Right, here goes." He closed his eyes as he gripped the handle, pulling with all his strength and he had to double check and double take when he opened the blue orbs again to the realisation that yes, the door had indeed opened first try.

 _Thank goodness for small miracles._

"John?"

The answer came swiftly back, and he'd expected that, because he just knew he could rely on the younger being there.

"Here Scott. I've been listening in on the reports from the police and fire services." It was another wrapped up way of asking for an update from the ground from _his_ perspective. After all, John could see everyone's view, but with the sometimes-needed radio silence, his family's was often the hardest to garner. And John wasn't them. He never asked outright, because that would make it seem as though time had to be given up. No, John would usually take those details later, however with a situation like this, he garnered that his younger brother wanted those little particular pieces of information as soon as humanly possible.

Besides, he'd been the one to iniciate the conversation, so – by John's logic, which (let's face it) was likely what was being used here – it seemed to point towards him having the time to talk.

"You know the driver's out?"

"Yeah, EOS is monitoring their conversation for me whilst we speak." It was another reminder of the AI he'd been reluctant to trust, yet now worked wonders for them, especially in these moments. It gave him hope John might not die young of a stress-based illness, after all. "You want a quick update?"

He let the brief smile grow; that was John's code for _'I know that's what you want. I want one too. Swap knowledge?'_ And who was he to not oblige their starman?

"I've managed to get the door to Carriage One open. I'm going to head in."

John sounded slightly shocked that it had been so easy to do – clearly, he was listening into the same report he'd just received on the authority's lack of success with their respective door.

"Ok. The made-up crew assisting you from the other end still haven't managed to cut a way in." Yes, he was definitely listening to the advancements of that report. Great… _better news would be much appreciated!_ "I think most of the trains systems are going to be down. I'm trying to find any still alive which I could gain control of, but I'm not having much luck. That means you're going to have to either cut or pull open the sliding doors which separate the carriages."

 _Really, John!_

There was saying it as you saw it and then some.

"EOS is still increasing the range of my scans. Thermal and life scans are showing some positivity for you, in this first carriage at least. I'll move the focus of the scans to match your pace. That way we shouldn't miss anything." At last, something which could actually lift his heart. It seemed like a stretch, a dare to even enquire, but that could be a very useful feature to be passing onto their assisting team… However, his nerves twanged at the thought of asking. John had made it clear how many resources he was already consuming for this rescue. Not that any expense should be spared and they all knew that.

"Are you able to-"

"We're mimicking the same effect for the authorities assisting team. I'll send them the same information whenever I can." Of course, John would be miles ahead of him already. John lived miles away from them at the same times as ages ahead; he was always the first to know anything and everything that was occurring beneath him. And it was more than useful.

"Great going, John. I'm going to head in. If you need me call. Give me a second to answer though?"

"I'll give you five."

He chuckled, carefully looking in. It was dark. The lights gave an occasional flicker, but they were like the dying embers of a fire. He was sure it wouldn't be long until those flickers cut out entirely. He wouldn't be able to utilise such miniature beams of illumination for anything much either. Great, a torch in hand job. He hated those.

"Hello? International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?"

No clear, definite answer came back. But John had said this carriage held some positivity, so by rules of reason there had to be someone. He tried to convince himself that the darkness had swallowed the sound, minimised the senses of those below.

Trying to channel that hope, he switched the torch on, holding it ready as he searched for his best way down. When looking into a pit of near blackness, it took a while. Didn't these things have emergency lighting? He fixed his hands against the side vacated by the door and tried to make the start of a gradual descent. When the small glare of the torchlight revealed a longer jump than he may like, he pulled himself back up to sit over the door. He glanced down again, racking his brains for options as he evaluated what little he could see. If only he had a light staring back at him, it might help him to place what else was down there.

Eventually, after spinning the torch around a few times from left to right, he managed to make out the backs of the first row of seats. If he could get the right swing angle, then maybe that could be his way down.

So, pulling out his grapple launcher and a spare pack, he attempted to make himself a line from the door to the chairs. It was hard in the dark to find the right target, but eventually he managed it and soon he was able to slide down. The only part of this great co-ordinated idea he hadn't planned, was how to stop the momentum carrying him. It had to become a quick-thinking action, the torch into mouth idea, in order for his hands to be free to grab hold of the new carriage roof, allowing his feet to drop lightly down onto the side of the chair. From there, the small jump onto the new floor wasn't even worth panicking over.

Still, he wasn't fond of the drop it had taken to get down there, or the way the seats hung horribly above him, almost all of those vacated. Gosh, did these things still not think seatbelts were worthwhile? For the most part though, this carriage did look as though it had survived the force of the impact. The only thing he could see immediately as noticeably out of place was that some seats – just like the first row of seats he'd swung by and onto to – were missing occupants.

Fixing himself to the spot, so as not to tread on anything (or anyone) unexpected, he took the torch back in hand and turned its light around. That in itself soon revealed where some of those missing people were. Of course, that should have been expected. Thrown down by gravity when the train tipped, forced forward by the impact… The rows without anything in front of them had nowhere to go, except for the floor, unless of course they had enough force to propel them into the front wall of the carriage, which from the look of one man's head, some of them had.

It made him shiver.

What he hadn't realised was how long he'd clearly remained in his own thoughts. Sound was filtering in now. Whimpers, crying, groans, strains and clearly some shock at the small, singular arriving light.

"Hello?"

"Who's there?"

"Daddy!"

"It's alright, son."

He did announce himself. He was sure he'd called down exactly who he was. Oh, well, maybe his voice had merely travelled back to him, bouncing off the metal, maybe the light and the sound had woken people up from comatose states, moods of despair. After all, they had been waiting now at least half an hour. After then, maybe you would begin to expect the worst.

"International Rescue." He announced again, affirming that everyone heard him. Some in the carriage sighed with relief, others called out thanks- "Everyone stay calm."

-and others;

"Stay calm! We're _trapped_ in here!"

Why did people have to instantly rush to anger? Couldn't they just be glad help had come? He wondered how he'd feel if the situations were reversed, if ever he'd feel what they did in that situation or if all his IR experience would prevent it. Actually, no, he never wanted to know. He didn't want to be in that position. He'd much rather be here, doing the job he knew, throwing out the reassurances which sometimes too easily fell short. Especially with his terrible wording, "No, sit tight, we're gonna' get you all out of here."

"We don't really have many other options, do we."

Oh, it was typical the one who found his voice would be ready to complain. He could understand they were scared and trapped and cold and injured, but this was all he could do until his brothers were able to aid him. He was stuck working alone and that was just the way it was going to have to go. They'd have to get here soon.

He couldn't exactly count just how many people he was contending with here, but from the sounds, it was at least half a carriage. The more he thought about it, the more he shone the torch around to try and ascertain exactly what he was facing, the more he caught glimpses of bodies on seats or leaning against the supposed windows, the more he realised it just wouldn't be possible to get everyone back up the way he'd come in.

If only Virgil could get here… if he'd brought the cutting gear – which would hopefully have been a first and logical thought by the middle child – then they might be able to get the roof to the carriage off which would allow them to lift the injured out… yes, that would be the preferable option.

In the end though, he found his starting point. It was exactly where he was. The man who had clearly hit the front of the carriage, the man with the bleeding head who was still unconscious. He made that man his starting point. It was a little dangerous to be stepping across people's limbs, but it was a trip he thought was necessary.

Instincts _. Keep trusting them, Scott._

Besides, he'd have to do a lot of limb stepping for this rescue.

The man didn't have a pulse, so as sad as it was, he knew he'd need to move on. To keep going. The dead could be dealt with when everyone alive was off this train. It soon became apparent that none of the four bodies thrown from their seats were alive.

He closed his eyes tight and sighed, biting his lip after a moment. There were too many ways he could continue this search. He'd tried to make priorities and it turned out he was choosing a dead man. He'd tried to work from the front to the back and it still seemed he was choosing the dead.

No, no more bad revelations. This may cause the most amount of noise, but there was something noise could always tell you when you were out on a rescue. The quiet. It was the quiet you had to watch, not the loud. To an extent, he'd already done that, but they were quiet for being dead. Yes, some who didn't answer would likely be in a similar condition, but maybe some would have others who could answer for them.

No more bad revelations.

Only survivors.

That was the priority, that was what his instincts were telling him.

So getting back to his feet and lifting the torch as high as possible to allow the most light, he flew his eyes around all the seats, all the shadows of people.

"Ok, you'll have to help me." He was pretty sure that caught people's attention. "I need to prioritise those with injuries, but trust me, I'm getting all of you out of here."

He was expecting the flood of noise, the scrambles which made his ears ache, but the one thing he wasn't expecting was some chivalry. Usually with incidents like this it was me, me, _me_.

The child's voice he recognised, the one which had called 'Daddy', the one who had been told it would be alright. The sniffles had been a clear sign. That had told him things. The voice of a woman, bravely speaking up above the other cacophony ensembles – and especially a certain _very_ annoying man he wished his job description would stretch to allowing him to murder, quietly – was the unexpected piece.

"This boy's father. Help him." A few agreements rose from that, some others then called out their own suggestions from what they could see and someone insisted 'the man' shut up. Apparently, he wasn't even injured, just stuck. If people were going to rally to help, trust in him that they could make it out of this alive, then that he could work with. The man falling silent helped and soon the only noise was distant murmurs and chatter, people trying to check on the health of each other, arrange between themselves a possible map for where their sole hope of rescue was needed. That was good. If they could pull together, they could make his job easier and potentially save each other.

He began to make his way across the new floor, sticking close yo what had been the roof - trying to avoid breaking any glass which had yet to break, avoiding stepping on that which had or sticking his foot straight through some of the gaps were windows had been – to get back to where most of the reported calls for help were coming from. The centre of the carriage. On his way down, it was easy enough to notice that those nearest the front couldn't have stood much of a chance. He tried not to think about the broken neck he passed in the second row on a backward facing seat.

This was going to be far more traumatising than he'd expected. It suddenly changed all his thoughts, the short walk through half of the train, that maybe he didn't really want his brothers here after all.

He thanked the woman sat behind them out of courtesy, asked if she was alright. Shock was her answer and he knew that was to be expected. She didn't appear injured either so he continued to where he'd been directed, and it seemed he'd been directed there with good reasoning.

He knelt beside the boy's father, the pair of them leaning across in their seats. The father was practically resting against the metal of the side, his son leaning against him, the older man the only buffer between him and a likely cracked skull. Scott knew, simply from being a son to an amazing father, that if he could get both of them out safe and sound, the father would rather for an eternity that they'd sat that way.

A father would always take the injury for his son where possible. That was something Jeff Tracy had taught them all. Something they instilled brother to brother, practised every day, especially in their industry of work.

He reached out instantly to see the man's pulse. It was there, thready, but present. The man was awake too, dozing and slipping in and out, but that was a good enough start considering the rest of the record for the afternoon.

"Right, let's see about getting you fixed up and out of here."

It was that traditional thing of childhood panic, even with someone so close to ground you. Trapped in a carriage with your dad unable to offer you much support, that was a reasonable emotion, a credible reaction. And it made his heart ache.

"My Dad! Please help him."

It wasn't lucky at all, but they'd rescued enough children this young boy's age to give him wise, extensive and good experience in the area.

"Don't worry. You're both gonna' be fine."

The boy smiled at the reassurance, watched carefully as his father was tended to. The red blood was clear even in the weak torchlight, but he was clueless yet as to where it was coming from. The boy took his father's hand, his tone flipping now he was feeling more secure living within reassurance.

"It's alright Dad, International Rescue are here. They're going to get us out."

It was a big promise to keep, but there was no way he could lie to the boy. No way he could let him down.

So, he'd just have to keep the promise.

* * *

Notes;

1: The use of "terrific" in reference to the crash. I was using one meaning for intensity/size, but also the traditional Latin meaning of "frighten" and such emotions. In no way am I using the more modern and informal meaning of good/excellent.

2: 589 is the rough estimate of seats on an eleven-carriage passenger train sourced from Virgin Media's 2014 rebuilds.


	2. II: Two

This is just getting a whole lot longer, but hopefully it will remain enjoyable and you won't be in too much suspense for too long. Enjoy!

* * *

The morning had been quiet.

In fact, the previous day had been silent.

Alan's hopes were beginning to rise that they may get an opportunity to break their grounded record. He'd also love them to be able to get to a three-day streak again at some point and he tried to keep confident that it was possible.

It would be Gordon who jinxed it all though, wouldn't it?

So, there were – as EOS rightly pointed out – numerous reasons he was always putting off the trip. The noise was one, being away from Thunderbird Five when a call could come through at any moment was another. Leaving space, a third. The obvious fourth was gravity. Gravity had never liked him he was sure, for rarely had it worked in his favour. Since he moved to Thunderbird Five, that effect had only worsened everytime he returned to Earth, and considering he could never stay long enough to reacquaint himself with the force and necessary balance – well, they remained enemies.

The one reason he always wanted to return, was his brothers. The four members of family he had left, that he was closer to than anyone else, that he missed more than he enjoyed being able to see the stars he loved whenever he wished. Before – yes, he'd never admitted it – he had been lonely. It felt somewhat like becoming an only child with how little he saw his brothers when International Rescue became busy. EOS was welcomed thoroughly in that sense, but she added the fifth reason for not returning to Earth. She'd been lonely too when they met, and it didn't seem right to inflict that upon her again just so he could see those he loved. Because he knew, in a strange way that no one on Earth could understand (his brother's or not), that she loved him in her own unique AI way.

The one reason he always wanted to return was his brothers.

The time they got to spend together, uninterrupted and as a true family was always rare and Scott had only recently been saying how long it had been since he'd come down and stayed. But there was just so much going on in the world. The Mechanic, The Hood, not to mention the high range of natural disasters and the equally dangerous band of those which were man-made.

Still, an opportunity to see his brothers was gold dust. Yes, he'd complain endless about gravity whilst he was there, but he did enjoy it. There was no doubt about that. And maybe, just maybe, gravity was beginning to welcome him back. It felt like ages since he'd been able to even face the prospect of going down to Earth and a silent day had given _him_ some hope.

Scott had contacted him that evening, desperate to make sure nothing had tried to murder him _again_ – yes, EOS had left Scott's protective instincts running on high, even now so much time had passed with the AI being trustworthy. Still, the eldest had seemed very pleased at it being a truly quiet day and had suggested he head down for a bit.

He knew one of those reasons was to give Grandma another head to split her cooking between.

Still, he'd met the idea with contained delight. He couldn't let Scott believe he'd hit a gold mine, for the elder might attempt to never let him return now EOS could monitor everything in space. Yes, he'd love to live on the island with his brothers again, but he'd always be needed in space. Maybe, when Alan was older, they could start rotating. He knew the youngest had an unvoiced love for Five and often moaned when he was here for the occurrences of all the best astrological phenomena while the blonde was stuck on Earth.

The other reason he stayed was never going to have voice or be heard by new ears. Jeff Tracy had always been proud of him for moving to space. For giving up Earth for the sake of International Rescue. He'd never forced it upon his son, and that was another reason he gave him so much praise for it. It was something John held onto in the days he wanted to scream and be able to see his brothers.

So when Scott suggested it, he hid the bounce in his heart rhythm with a shrug and said they'd see what the morning brought.

When the morning too was filled with silence, Scott had once again pointed out little to nothing was stopping him. They might get a whole day, they may get a few hours, but it was time _together_.

And he couldn't argue with that. And he didn't want to.

EOS had promised to call and that had settled it.

Alan greeted him, diving out from behind Scott. The elder could only shake his head as though he'd been aware of Alan's plan all along. Still, it was an old and childish trick, but he supposed Alan had every right to fall into childish spells: he was a child growing up too fast. They all had been. It wasn't as though he was opposed to joining in either, just on very select occasions.

Virgil decided he'd play the piano if they were all going to be spending the evening together and that was a reason to return to Earth in itself. Alan spent most of the morning filling in the usual blanks; _'What's going on in space at the moment?' 'Is there anything interesting that I should see?' 'Can I come spend some time on Five soon?'._

There were usually standard answers to all of those questions, yet it was always Alan seeking to make the journey no one else did.

He'd wondered a few times up on Five, because there was plenty of time for that on occasions, exactly how alike he and Alan were or might be. Alan was definitely segregated from the four of them by age. He was the youngest and often restricted by his elders because of that. Gordon – four years older, and yet still Alan's closest in age – was already committed to International Rescue and though he often had a lot of time for his younger brother, there was only so much he could do to combat the loneliness at being left alone when those you loved flew out on a rescue.

It was Alan who – somehow – had seen it and asked it.

 _'_ _Don't you get lonely up there, John?'_

Whenever he thought about that day, what struck him was how untruthfully he'd answered it. And somehow, he was still sure the youngest had seen through it. Space had always been their connection and he believed now he'd underestimated just how strong that could be. Alan had come to space to work with him on rescues a few times now and he had nothing negative to say about the kid. In fact, it helped him realise how kindred their spirits were.

Alan had taken a liking to Thunderbird Five after the few occasions when he'd docked there, and it was impossible for John to forget the offer of a swap in order to give him a break – just as long as it _'collided with something spectacular you couldn't see from Earth'_. But the blond had been entirely joking on the last part.

It didn't miff him anymore as to why Alan would want to spend so much time with a brother seven-years his senior.

Gordon didn't wake until midday and looked perfectly shocked to see him sat casually on the sofa, Alan on one side, Scott on the other: at least by the way the other blonde's jaw dropped.

"When did you get back in town?" Had been the greeting, and to some extent, he knew he should have expected it, maybe even expected Virgil's quip from where he was lounging on the sofa opposite them.

"Don't you mean back with gravity, Gordon?"

He definitely should have seen Scott's oncoming fit of laughter.

It was strange, he'd always thought, how normal their lives could be when no one was trapped or in need of 'impossible' aid. If you took away the fact they lived miles from civilisation, they could still be a pretty normal family; swimming laps of the pool, watching space documentaries, spending long evenings gathered around the piano, baking and tinkering with machinery… ok maybe not the last one, for he was sure not everyone's younger brother tried taking a toaster apart in order to put it back together – _yes, looking at you, Virgil._

And when the middle child met his eyes, the smile itself told him they were on the same page. As Alan and Gordon delved into a new debate "big brother" had to try and settle, he knew it was _impossible_ to withhold smiling like a joker for any longer.

That was saying something, considering few things were impossible for them too.

Alan had insisted (whilst Scott unknowingly distracted their brothers) he visit Thunderbird Three and as it was something he did rarely – but secretly enjoyed – he agreed. The youngest had developed a knack for this. Down time, especially when the red headed brother could come and visit, was the perfect opportunity to sit and have a mission retold inside the red rocket. He supposed that was another thing their love of space gave them. Solace from being inside a rocket.

 _Dad's rocket._

He could put on the façade, act as though he'd heard it all before – since usually, he had over the communications channels aboard five – but at the end of the day, it all slipped away into enjoyment. They were small things, but then it was always the simplest and smallest of things which had mattered to him. He was so glad only Scott was old enough to remember him asking for their family one birthday. But then, they were always at the heart of the small range of things which mattered to the spaceman.

When Alan had finally finished his tale and they returned to the lounge, Gordon complained it was unfair for the youngest to ' _snatch'_ ( _in the midst of action_ , had been his exact words) the red-head away like that when his appearances were so rare, but before anything else could be said on the matter, Virgil insisted he come and listen to a new piece. And there was another of those valued things. The middle child was a master with the instrument, even if he'd never admit to having an artistic side – no Virgil was strong, calm, cool and collected. _And an artist_. The whole family added that label in their heads, because Virgil couldn't argue to that.

It was a really nice piece – calm and quieting, one he imagined Dad would have liked, and even standing simply at the piano's side reminded him of family nights together. It made him long for them back. However, then he'd remind himself they were all still mostly here, and could enjoy them the five of them, with dad's honoured presence. This was one of those things he had to come back to Earth for.

His brothers were always the force that pulled him back, not gravity.

Finally annoyed at not being able to see his brother, Gordon pulled him from the piano – physically, yes – and insisted they sit outside by the pool, because it was impossible for him to get the recommended amount of sunlight in space. Virgil and Alan had chuckled and had the sense not to challenge or follow.

Gordon had been endlessly demonstrating his swimming prowess, popping his head up in sequence at the end of each lap to reply to their thread of conversation, when Scott finally came out and caught up with them.

"So this is where you've been."

He shrugged where he sat on the edge of one of the sunbeds. "I was dragged."

"Half dragged," Gordon gurgled as he popped his head up through the depths of the water. "Half walked."

"Well as long as he's in one piece, I'm happy." Scott answered, sitting on the bed opposite him. The sun seemed to work wonders for Gordon and Scott didn't appear opposed to it either. He was: the view was tarnished on Earth, far more exquisite from up in the cosmos.

It amused him when he noticed Virgil stepping his way out carefully with Alan hovering like a fly behind him. He supposed there was every chance they suspected Gordon to have set something up in the hour he'd managed to win alone.

"Nothing's going to attack you." He called out and Scott sniggered immediately, glancing over his shoulder to see their younger brothers braving the outdoors.

"Are you sure John?" Alan answered instantly, stepping back almost comically as Gordon surfaced and even Virgil seemed to twitch, all of which Scott found even more amusing. He was sure he would too if he had any ideas as to the unspoken context.

"You're not in on it, are you?" Virgil queried.

He held up his hands, trying to prove he was innocent of anything and everything at the moment, "Hey, I'm a safe field of quantum particles."

"We don't do science speak on Earth!" Gordon exclaimed, pulling himself to the side of the pool, an action which made Virgil side step further away once again.

"I do!" Alan exclaimed happily as he sat on the pool edge, clearly no longer afraid of whatever his direct elder might pull. Maybe he'd been able to tell it was safe through their brief moment of eye contact or just the link they shared as the resident 'Terrible Two'; all whilst Virgil still looked very, very unsettled and chose to hover nearer to he and Scott, almost unconsciously. It was enough to tell him that something had been said or done between the pair of them. He wasn't sure what, but it certainly seemed that Virgil was ready and waiting to be on the receiving end of some bad trickery, likely in return or her own. Those three could be so entertaining. It was definitely worth returning to Earth when these little debates were going on.

"Entanglement principles1, can explain luck." He explained simply. It was far more complex than that, but he could leave it that way for the rest of them. Alan would likely have tried to explain the process in whole to amaze everyone and he could see that leading to Gordon drowning, Scott going grey and Virgil kneeling over from anxiety. It would just take too long to explain – longer than the minds of their brothers could sustain at least. He gave an Alan a gaze and smile which explained that and the youngest blonde seemed happily settled with that.

"And you're meant to be good luck?" Scott asked, probably still trying to deal with the brief science lesson.

"There's five of us. By the Laws of physics, one of us should be."

"I hope it's me." Virgil answered, almost sounding a little bit desperate. If he was waiting on Gordon's hit list though, then it was probably warranted worry.

Gravity seemed to be in his favour for the afternoon, though he didn't dare test it by attempting to get into the pool. Virgil opted to sit out too and there was an obvious reason for that. Alan switched in and out, but with just he and Gordon, there were very few games they could play – not that could last for a while anyway.

Even so, it was a nice quiet family afternoon and when they finally all sat together to have some cold drinks, Gordon – padding across the floor, dripping wet and threatening to soak Virgil – had to say it,

"Hey, look up, we might even manage to break our three-day streak!"

"I'd rather not look up though, Gordon." Scott answered before taking a quick sip of his drink, almost racing away from the topic at the speeds Alan liked to fly Thunderbird Three, but he already knew it was too late. With the words out there and said, it was only a matter of time.

In fact, _five, four, three, two, one-_

"Scott's just afraid he'll blind himself if he looks at the sun."

-Not quite, he'd have to count to negative three for the effect to be true, but it wasn't that far off after all.

The call signal beeped.

"Well that should have been predictable." He answered quickly, getting to his feet at the same time all the while trying his best to maintain his balance _and_ navigate the innumerous amount of stupid deckchairs spread around the place – the majority of which they just didn't need.

"You had to say it Gordon." Alan moaned, rushing off after him by the sound of his footsteps. He shook his head, smiling at the slight boisterous undertone there had been to what was clearly an angered stomp at their day being interrupted. Of course, he'd never tell the youngest exactly what his desperate rushing had actually sounded like. He managed to wipe the smile from his face as well by the time he answered EOS up in the lounge.

Else there would have been an awkward explanation necessary as to why he was doing so, and schooling EOS on another of life's human mysteries wasn't what he had time for now.

Now, was an end to the brotherly fun.

* * *

And that was how they came to this.

He'd returned to Thunderbird Five to assist EOS because from what she described, this was a massive accident with another impending disaster on the way.

So, Scott and Virgil headed off to launch and were leaving the island by the time he gave them their course, relaying to them the briefest of descriptions.

"But what exactly are we dealing with, John?" Scott had inquired straight away, first responder instincts clearly kicking in, and he desperately wished the eldest could have held his curiosity. For one, because he didn't entirely know himself yet 'what exactly'.

Save a very bleak picture.

"You just need to make your priority getting there, Thunderbird One. If that passenger train crashes into the back of the existing crash, then it will be an absolute disaster."

"More than it already is?" Gordon's voice questioned as Thunderbird Two's radio also registered on his systems. EOS seemed to be waiting in the background for her set of instructions and he knew his brothers would soon be doing the same when they reported their arrival, but right now it was hard for him to see any to give.

In the waiting silence, he was busying himself, studying what information he had on the situation and the whole time he wished for so many reasons that it hadn't happened.

EOS had already apologised profusely, claiming that she must have _missed_ it, but he double checked on his way up in the space elevator. There had been no calls, no radio communications which forewarned it, nothing that led anyone to believe one of the trains had fallen onto the wrong track. No, unless he'd been specifically watching for it then there was no way he could have seen it. That any of them could have. He made a point of making EOS aware of that too. It wouldn't do to have her focus for the entire rescue on appointing blame. He could tell he was going to need her resources in order to be able to make this rescue possible.

"This isn't a joking matter, Gordon." Virgil insisted, his voice breaking strong and solemn through the quiet.

"I wasn't." The eldest blonde threw back.

It was a tell-tale sign to him that they weren't going to get anywhere like this. His brothers would have to know the situation if there was going to be any focus on this rescue. He'd never intended to send them in blind, but he'd wanted to wait until they'd passed the flight. All it was going to cause was upset. But upset it seemed was the way forward.

"Ok, listen up." That grabbed their attention; he'd learnt to recognise the signs he couldn't always see in his brothers. "You're on your way to stop a six-carriage passenger train from crashing into an existing accident. The existing accident is a crash between a cargo train and a eleven-carriage passenger train-"

"Which wouldn't happen to be the evening rush hour train, would it John?"

"Yes, Scott, it would. From what I can tell me, full to capacity as usual. The train is currently on its side and in a varied state. The cargo train has practically broken apart, but at the speeds they collided we're looking at a range of serious injuries, _possibly_ fatalities." He knew they'd understand without him needing to confirm it so horribly, bluntly. "The authorities are already on their way, but I think this is beyond what they can deal with. Once we've managed to stop the train we'll need to evacuate the trapped passengers."

"Do you have the details on that yet?" Virgil asked. He shook his head despite knowing they couldn't see it, but at least EOS chuckled.

"I'm currently focusing on finding a way for you to stop the oncoming train. You aren't going to have much time to act."

"FAB. Five minutes out."

And he'd used every second of those five minutes to come up with a solution, running several suggestions through with EOS until they found the one which would work, and he sent them all the details to his usual precision. He would have rather had more than five minutes, he would have rather been able to give them something he was certain on, something which was completely safe, as opposed to the best he could muster. Still, it would have to do.

"We're here, John. Talk us through this grand idea."

"You can't just stop the train: the sudden breaking force will cause serious injury. You need to take a tag team approach. Fire a constant series of grappling lines until you can force it to slow down. One of you will need to take the back, the other the front. I'd suggest you use Thunderbird One for the front carriage," Before Virgil could make his protest, he continued, after all the calculations were in his hands. Quite literally with Five's systems, "Ok, Thunderbird Two is stronger, but Thunderbird One's engines are more likely to help you compensate for the speed."

"FAB." He loved it when they could all answer at the same time.

What he didn't love was the waiting. The next few minutes when all he had was there few radio transmissions to go on, when he had no idea what was happening apart from the few things he could see on his screen. It was an agonising process, it always had been, and it was only made marginally easier with EOS at his side. It still hurt everytime to be so far away from the action, unable to help other than to call out names and bellow instructions which might come too late. There had been far too many times in the course of International Rescue when he'd been left, waiting, just as in the dark as his brothers on the ground sometimes. When their radios went dead or he got wind of only part of the story, it was always the same.

He was left playing the waiting game.

It had only taken two minutes at most, but it felt like ages. The train on his screen looked like it was touching bumpers with the crash, a narrow margin separating them. The narrow margin didn't matter though, because all his projections were suggesting that the train had stopped gradually enough to avoid any casualties and hopefully serious injuries.

He breathed a sigh of relief. They'd done it. Pulled off the impossible once again. Yet another reason for the world to love International Rescue.

"Good going guys."

"Thanks. It looked close for a moment."

"You're telling me." He could only breathe the answer. He'd been stuck without the correspondence between the brothers, but he could tell from the exhaustion already marching into Scott's voice that he'd been panicking, fearing they wouldn't do it. That hadn't remotely been his fear. His fear had been the constant, though rare – he'd calculated these things to the exact point of course – that either of them (Thunderbird One) especially, could have caught a dangerous backdraft if they'd failed to stop the train, or if the train had hit the crash.

But he could bury those fears now, because it hadn't happened like that. He could bury them and wait for the next ones to rise. He could bury them and try to get his heart rate to drop. He could bury them. For now.

"Woah…" Alan's voice breathed over the radio. _A change of topics on the way then._ "It's… It looks terrible down here."

"I know, Alan." He couldn't see it, but he could see the closest he had to it, he could hear the reports, he could gather the gist of everything which was going on, of all the things which his brother's eyes could view. He wished he could have his green eyes staring at the same as opposed to holographic images. These were the rescues he hated leaving his brothers to handle, because the things they saw couldn't be swiped away, those he saw could.

And he _hated_ it.

It was an impossible situation always, but it was one he struggled to live down. Here he was, in a palace in space doing next to nothing compared to the work his family would soon be undertaking. This crash, this mission was a nightmare in progress. It was the incident you never wanted to happen for so many reasons.

 _Why did this have to happen?_

It was like they were jinxed sometimes – and this was coming from the man who believed in science not luck – and that was only emphasised by Gordon's choice words right before this happened, him coming back down to Earth… It just seemed to happen that way every single time.

He shook his head. It was typical, yes, but it wasn't what he could be clouding his mind with right now.

 _There are more important things going on._

"You need to get down there as soon as possible. It's not just the extent of what you're going to find, but you're racing time. You've got about an hour before it goes dark." He hoped nothing had slipped, given him away in his tone. Yet, another thing for this mission's list of important variables; why did South America have to be four hours ahead of them? If they had to work in the pitch black, they'd be in a little bit more trouble.

It was easy to say that optimism was rapidly failing him where this rescue was concerned.

"FAB." Gordon mumbled his voice sounding chilled to the core, a complete turnaround for the usual joker. He couldn't say he wasn't feeling cold either, and not because of space's atmosphere though he'd like to be able to peg it on that.

"Um… I'm not seeing anywhere for us to land." Virgil's voice flooded the space station, bringing him back to this moment, this world which he needed to be in. "John?"

"You can't land anywhere near Virgil. The site isn't really stable for One and Two is going to need a much larger landing and standing space than you'll get. Hover for a moment, I'll direct you somewhere else. Scott, you should be able to land, a few clicks North of you - there should be enough space to keep you out of the way and as stable as possible."

He couldn't afford to send both of them away to land – there would surely be nothing left to save if he did so. It was a risk, but a calculated one, and so he added keeping an eye on Thunderbird One's landing gear and all near by slips in land stability to his holo-screen. It was almost like being in an all-round encased home cinema, except the film was a horror movie you were mis-sold and actually had no wish to watch.

"I see it John. Thanks. Heading down now. See you later Thunderbird Two." And with that Scott was gone, his screen the only thing which allowed him to see Thunderbird One was still in flight, still in the area, still _safe._

And with Scott gone and making a simple landing, that turned is attentions to Thunderbird Two, to the drastic need to find somewhere for the infernal hulk of a ship (he did love it really) to land. Why couldn't things just be simple? Why couldn't there just be a space big enough to land the thing for once? Ok, it was a stretch of something to ask for in a situation like this, but if something could just go their way…

He'd thank the universe though it couldn't really answer back.

He flicked his fingers and brought up some of the details he'd need, picking up on specific sets of coordinates.

"Ok, Virgil head West for a few miles. I'm sending you the details. You'll need to head North West in a bit. I'm trying to find you a suitable landing spot, but I'm not having much luck. I've put you on the path towards the nearest disused runway."

"FAB John."

"By the way, what's with the GDF presence?" Gordon promptly enquired, voice sounding a little more like his own with the tell-tale Tracy annoyance creeping in, "They're swooping in now."

"I see them Gordon. I'll handle it."

"I'd rather you than me."

Of course the Aquanaut would.

He'd pass it on to EOS to deal with if it wasn't likely to require a human touch, or if she wasn't already watching the local emergency services, the train tracks, and obtaining the relevant schematics for the train they held a issue with. No, he was good at multitasking and he was the logical choice for it, however much he already had on his plate. He'd pass one of the other, more simplistic tech jobs onto EOS if he really had too.

"John, we're not going to end up too far away, are we?" Alan questioned suddenly, but his voice sounded somehow distant. That alone that him the youngest was probably attempting to look back out of the window. Maybe longingly towards the eldest brother… _yeah, Alan, I feel it too..._

"I'm going to do my best Alan." The dotted line on his screen. Started to curve, the green tracking light of Two almost atop it. "Virgil, North West now, you should see it soon."

"How soon is soon, John?"

"Five minutes, tops." He hoped, anyhow. He didn't want Scott to be struggling _alone_ on the ground for too long. "Let me know when you get there."

He ended their communications link this time, because he needed the resource. EOS had been gradually looping in and bringing up every relevant conversation for them. He currently had individual updates from the tracks controller, the police and the incoming fire services. The ambulance services were also making a few reports and he had those displayed too. Not to mention he was keeping a very close eye on the GDF just as he'd told Gordon, for it was certainly unusual for Colonel Casey not to announce their helping presence was on hand and available. That missing common detail alone set his finally tuned nerves of. Yet, he didn't have all the time in the world to be babysitting the GDF and as such, the thought couldn't have all his attentions. In a situation like this, he had to prioritise.

Still, just like he'd promised, with the passenger train taken care of – and it was, everyone was in the process of being safely evacuated – he turned his attentions to the fallen train. He had general outlines of thermal and life scans from what Thunderbird Five was capable of discovering, but he knew that just wasn't going to be enough for this level of catastrophe. He needed to be able to give his brothers more than that if they were going to stand any chance.

"International Rescue, we need assistance." _Oh no…_ he felt his heart drop towards his stomach, ribs a useless support. That was all they needed. Clearly everyone was now going to decide today was the day (of all days) that they needed rescuing. He listened to a bit more of the message to gain the rough situation, pin point the location, before reluctantly sending it on to the city's fire department. They'd just have to deal with it in house as best as possible, because there was no way International Rescue could respond.

He spent some time whilst listening in – he'd become very good at multitasking, well, technically he always had been. He'd just adapted to a new area over the last few years – studying the schematics EOS had located, and images of the train's fall. Judging by its fall angle and calculated force, not to mention the fact of it having eleven passenger filled carriages: International Rescue was going to be needed here for a while.

He muttered to himself as he worked, things about no seatbelts, and calculating the effect of gravity. It was likely on that basis - calculating through everything he had to hand - they'd end up with a lot of falls, a few impalements and a fair quantity of broken bones. Not to mention more head, neck and back injuries than he'd like, especially as it was likely a high proportion of those would be fatal. Of course, he wasn't going to pass on those scientific workings at any point - it was unnecessary for his brothers to have such in their minds, nor did he think it would remotely useful for them, as one they'd likely not be easily understood. And for two, they did paint a dire picture, and yes, the situation was exactly so, but he couldn't throw in anything which might knock his brother's further off course. There was no changing the troublesome and bad nature of the situation, but he could at least try to keep his brothers spirits up on the ground. He was guessing from what they'd seen, how they'd sounded and what they'd reported to him, that they were all already aware and expecting a high rate of fatalities.

And how could he lie to them if they asked? It wouldn't be right. That's why he was desperately hoping an exact question of the sort could be avoided. In fairness, he loved knowledge, he loved possessing knowledge. He liked being able to be privy to everything, to have the chance to work all these things out, but given the chance to be down there right now, he knew he'd take it – however much of a shock that may come as.

He'd made several mental notes of the useful things he heard, names, figures and the like, noting a few of them as well so they were ready at arm's reach. Actually, it seemed like he'd done a lot by the time another communication made its way in and he soon found himself hoping his elder brother wasn't cracking already.

"Um," His voice was shaky for a moment, even just on the simple sound and he feared that just maybe… "John… Where am I supposed to start?"

No, Scott sounded lost, but he seemed to be attempting to pull himself together. That was good. That was very good. As long as Scott could just keep a lid on his recklessness – _damn him for being so protective of everyone else and yet ridiculously daring with his own life;_ John could swear it was a character fault – and keep trusting his instincts no matter what, then everything may work out still. At least until he could have some ground help.

He may have always been able to calm and reassure his elder brother (not that you'd hear Scott admit it), yet there was only so much he could do from up here especially with so many different channels to supervise. He was still surprised the GDF had made no contact.

But for now, Scott wanted to know where to start, and that he could give him.

He thought back to basic protocols, thinking that would settle well with whatever state Scott's mind was in, maybe even prompt it back to it's full state of working. He tried to move steps ahead of his own instructions too, so that he was never leaving Scott with a prolonged lapse.

"I would suggest finding someone to liaise with from the authorities. Hold on, I have a name from my preliminary communications."

And now, typically, it seemed the GDF were interested in making contact, as though someone had reminded them that with International Rescue attending, they should follow their Colonel's usual protocol and do so.

"International Rescue, Captain Sidwell. We are coming into land at the crash site. Preparing to drop altitude."

 _Idiotic,_ was the first thing to cross his mind, especially for an apparent Captain.

That baffled him completely. An apparently experienced pilot and officer thought it was a good idea to one descend on a crash site, two to descend on a cliff side in which their jets could end up over the fallen train. And there was no idea yet as to what problems that could create. He didn't think those jets would cause the train to roll again, but it could cause a magnitude of other occurrences, actually anything in effect, he had no picture for certain.

It was definitely a good thing he could listen to people's communications word perfect at the same time, because otherwise he'd have had to demand one of them, maybe even both repeat what they said. That was why he did this job though, because – not blowing any trumpets – he was good at it and that had only come through practise and hard work (and a tiny bit of natural skill which was likely nurtured by having five brothers)

Still, he hated to cut across Scott's conversation, however there was no choice, as the GDF fleet certainly seemed ready to move immediately on that action if he didn't shut them up.

"Uh, no Captain, I wouldn't advise losing altitude in your current position."

"John?" He was sure he could take one guess as to what Scott was currently thinking – _something along the lines of 'have you gone mad' by the tone,_ he'd guess - and be right. Scott, on the other hand, would soon find himself proven wrong.

"Sorry Scott, I'm doing a lot of cross-channelling right now."

"You're a communications expert." It was nice to have a compliment, but perfectly unnecessary. To him, it was just a statement of what he could do and right now he wasn't even going to pick up on the sub meanings. Scott needed to know the situation up here if he was going to be able to understand any other sudden cuts across his conversation, because he was sure there could easily be more with how many resources he and EOS were currently using up between them.

"Yes, but I'm running short on resources even with EOS. I'm trying to keep my focus now on scanning the wreckage. Leaving you on an open channel where possible saves some of those dwindling resources."

Simple solutions. They were what he always had to strive for in moments like these. Priorities and proficiency.

"Understood John." Something of Scott's "field commander" voice seemed to return in that and so long as this talk was doing something beneficial, he was meeting his targets. "You were getting me a name?"

He already had the relevant log ready. Once again, multitasking. Having watched him do it over multiple rescues, EOS had marvelled at it to begin with, but when he explained to her that she could already do it naturally, the effect wore off and she began to consider it a normality between them: something else which separated them from 'other humans'. He was glad to know his family were no longer included in that dangerous category.

"Yes, a Police Chief, Martini."

Scott had sounded thoroughly confused and when he left him with, "Later, I think I could use a few," he decided he'd make sure that happened, later. He had a feeling they all might need a drink, even young Alan.

The GDF tried calling again. He had a bigger issue to deal with, and they could wait. He put them on hold.

In the meantime, he thought back to the previous puzzle, the continuing challenge they were being posed with today. His brothers weren't going to have much luck if life and thermal scans were all he could give him. They were vague and meant little. Brains had been in the process of developing him more advanced systems, Thunderbird Five's own version of what he could read from his brother's close up scans, yet those designs were nowhere near finished however. So maybe they'd just have to go it alone, improvise and create on the spot, see what they could work out. Because they needed something _now_ , something which could equate to this level of catastrophe.

He'd been trying to find a solution before, but he knew now there was only one.

Intelligence was necessary, yes, but so was fast processing speed, one far faster and superior to his – one which could actually create the ideas he was capable of thinking up.

He wouldn't be able to do that alone. And it wasn't like there was nothing else for him to be doing either - he did only have two eyes and ears and one set of hands. He needed to be _here_ to answer his brothers, to aid them, thus he couldn't be taking up all his resources with the task. But there might just be someone who could. So he turned to her.

"EOS?"

"Yes John?" She wasn't sounding quite as chirpy as usual, though still held something of her merry nature, so he didn't think the accident had caused her to have a sudden break in confidence. Because that could be a disaster ours occurrence for him right now.

"Can you find a way to boost our thermal and life scans?"

"I will start searching." He was grateful to her and hoped that she knew that by now without him needing to give voice to it.

The wreckage itself looked a terrible state from the images he could get up here and he knew it was going to be a far sight worse down there. He could only hope that Scott would be able to hold his head, keep following his instincts like the brilliant field commander he was.

There was little to tune into at the moment and he supposed that meant Scott was still sorting things on the ground. He couldn't blame him for not wanting to enter that wreckage since it definitely wouldn't be on his list of things to do. He decided to try putting in a call to Colonel Casey to see if this whole GDF mess could be settled with ease. After his call bouncing back unsuccessfully, he sighed, perfectly ready to believe that this day was just doomed from the start, even before Gordon changed the equilibrium around them; the floating particles the blond would never believe in, as the only thing in his mind which floated involved water.

"John," EOS' robotic, yet calming voice reappeared. "I think I have some success, but I will need to over-run some of our systems." Really? Something couldn't go completely right, even now? Here he was thinking everything that could go wrong already had. _Surely there couldn't be that many things left which could go array?_

"Will it put us in any immediate danger?" That was the first point he had to address, because Scott would flip if he went through with something _that_ crazy.

"No. Not unless we continue going past the limits, should we ever reach them." Ok, that sounded slightly more positive. He could settle with half and half cases, because really he wasn't asking for a miracle, just a little luck – yes, never before heard of where he was concerned and he was more than glad Gordon wasn't within his presence to witness it.

"Will we lose any of our communications in the process?" He was using every channel right now as it was, leaving just enough to be able to divert any and all other incoming calls. It was a tool he couldn't afford to give up for more precise scanning.

"No. Communications will remain stable. I will try to over-run as many of my own systems as possible before eating into yours or Thunderbird Five's resources. By the end of it, I may need some replacement processors though…" For EOS, that was a very sad thought and he understood it.

"We have many spares in the cargo bay."

That instantly made her brighten up. "Then I see no reason why it cannot at least be attempted."

 _Yes,_ he thought, _something good at last!_

"Try it, EOS. We'll give them whatever we can before we have to cut down our system usage."

"Certainly."

They'd have to make do. Running under pressure – especially _this_ much – was never easy, but he prided himself on being unflappable and EOS was definitely fine unless he started dying on her, so all round, he couldn't see any foreseeable issues. This was International Rescue on a rare, but not impossible super busy day and they would just have to push on, make do and rely on each other, just like they always did.

They could do this.

They had to.

And he knew that if they could keep together (ironic, yes, he was aware considering how far away he currently was) then he was sure they could make this mission a success. Or at least as much of a success as it was possible to make the unstoppable. His hope was they'd be able to save a substantial amount of people. If not, they'd be able to know they did everything they could in the process of trying. And maybe the world would have to see that and learn that not even International Rescue were superhuman. Yes, they often made miracles; yes, they did what no one else thought was possible; yes, they were often the first point of call for disasters, but no, they couldn't put the clock back. And he knew from everything he was hearing and seeing, that was the tool they'd need to make this a situation International Rescue could have prevented, and on that front, he wasn't even certain. There still may have only been so much they could do, but yes, there was a possible chance they could have stopped the collision.

If anyone had actually been paying attention to spot it, or possibly not deliberately setting it all up. He wasn't going to make any assumptions and there weren't enough details in yet to prove either way, but that would just be the straw to add another complication – if there's someone else they should be looking out for.

"John, I have the system established. You should be able to utilise it soon. It should allow you basic vital scans too."

"Well done, EOS."

"I can't guarantee how long it will run for though. It's… how do you say… experimental?"

He gave her a smile, an attempt to at least try and brighten the situation for the young AI, "Well, you know as much as I do, that sometimes here at International Rescue, we go with experimental."

"Indeed, we do, John."

He soon heard over the communications that Scott had made contact with the police and that was a good start. He turned to check the tracking for Thunderbird Two, noticing now how close they were coming to their destination.

In light of that he took another quick flick over the schematics of the train, returning to the background calculations he'd been making. They were definitely going to need some kind of cutting equipment and it might be useful for them to take a general pod or two for travel purposes. And who knows? It might come in handy later. That would have to do, for there was a limit as to how much the three of them could lug over, even with Virgil being as strong as he was. At least if they had a pod, a trip back might be manageable if completely necessary. But it would be darkening fast and their journey across the land was going to take them longer than the flight away. It would be like being grounded for a pilot, he knew. From what he could see at the moment though, they'd need to get inside the train before they could even dare attempt to cut the side (now better labelled as the roof) off from the train. It was unlikely, but he couldn't be certain some people hadn't been able to remain in their seats, somehow.

"Thunderbird Five, to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, I thought you might like an equipment update."

He might as well fill the time Scott didn't need him and the communications were bringing up nothing of great significance, with something else. Besides Virgil and his crew might as well have the best updates possible in order to avoid them standing around.

The GDF as far as he was concerned, took second place still. Although he was still irked at not being able to get a hold of their inside friendly face.

"I'd love one, John. We've found the place. We're just about to land. I'll send Alan and Gordon to get it all ready."

"You're going to want your heavy lifting gear." Virgil didn't leave for many missions like this without it, but John knew he might be tempted to this time in order to help with getting there quicker and the medical evacuations, but Alan and Gordon could put their skills towards that, considering the middle child had the most strength and experience dealing with rubble which needed to be turned up.

"FAB, I'll suit up as soon as Two is on the ground."

"Get Gordon and Alan to configure a pod. You're going to want as much cutting and heavy lifting gear as you can get." Scott hadn't been able to give him a better inside update yet and so he was still stuck making judgement calls on what he could see. He wondered briefly if EOS had seen anything else, but when he sent that question her way through looks alone, she answered negatively. Picking up on an earlier conversation he'd overheard, he added something else. "You'd be best to take multiple first aid kits, as many as you can carry just to be certain. I don't know how willing the ambulance crews are going to be to get inside the train. Currently they're leaving it to the police and fire services, but maybe when there's inside access they'll join. The best advise I can give you is to think practically with equipment choices."

He hoped they would, for he saw no way it was fair of them to expect International Rescue to do everything. He checked the updated On-site Vehicle Reports as Virgil answered and was glad to see that all seven units had hung around. Not that he expected seven ambulances to be anywhere near enough. Besides, once his brothers were there, he knew they'd help where they could until it wasn't possible for them to do any more. It was the sort of people they were.

"I get it, no chances. Works for me."

"Right." He loved it when it worked out like this; all of them on the same page with such ease, "You might want to pass on an update to Scott. I'm sure he'll appreciate it coming from you." And that he did know. With how frazzled Scott had already sounded at points and the fact he was able to dryly joke about the Police Chief's surname, he knew his elder brother was crumpling beneath all the pressure. Considering he'd be receiving multiple and almost constant reports from John throughout the rescue and might still be waiting a while on the three younger family members arrival, a call from Virgil would just be a nice cherry to the situation, a new voice.

"FAB."

And that was the end of that call.

He turned his attention back to the communications, none of them displaying anything major or that he needed to note. That led him back to the latest of numerous calls he'd been trying to put through to Colonel Casey, as with a sickening beep, this one once again failed to connect.

"Damn." The GDF were really beginning to grate on his nerves: they were simply creating noise and obstructing from the skies. They still hadn't moved away, nor had they made any attempt at contact since their last call. And he didn't think that boded particularly well.

 _"_ _We're having trouble here."_

"We wouldn't be hearing it if you weren't." He muttered, flicking his eyes back to the relevant channel. It was a bit disappointing that his key word setting for any incoming transmissions was 'help', 'trouble', 'danger' and any of their affiliates. It certainly made him seem like a very sad and overly crime-conscious person. Of course, it wasn't like that, but it certainly sounded like the simplest explanation to outsiders.

 _"_ _The door's completely jammed."_

 _"_ _We'll try and gain access through the windows."_

 _"_ _The windows aren't going to be large enough for access."_

 _"_ _But we can establish communications with the passengers."_ So someone else on the ground was able to think clearly and carefully too it seemed. That at least meant they might manage to get somewhere eventually. Scott could have a handful of half and half news when he next checked in at least.

The communications beeped again, the alert he'd specifically set up for the GDF. _Just, great._ They could really do without the extra hassle right now. It simply wasn't constructive. Captain Sidwell's voice boomed over the radio and he knew those tones alone were enough to give him a headache.

 _"_ _Hey, International Rescue, what's going on? You gonna' let us land here?"_

"They're very pushy." EOS commented, busy with her selected task, but clearly still putting some of her functions towards helping him listen in, even if it was on a base level. He had a feeling she was learning something of the common human method of eaves-dropping as well, listening into communications which might entertain her. And this was definitely one of those. If there was one thing EOS had learnt for certain, then it was definitely that the GDF were interesting – and worth keeping an eye on for many reasons, a prime one of which still being that the AI was certain the organisation couldn't be trusted. It had certainly taken him a while to convince EOS that Colonel Casey posed them no threat, and he had a feeling that had only been achieved through the family friend connection.

Really the GDF should be being more careful, because he knew EOS definitely had eyes on them.

"I know." He answered the link, not willing to keep them waiting for too long. He'd no prior dealings with Sidwell, however he didn't feel like the man was going to be one who waited patiently, "Captain, I have already told you, you cannot land three planes of that size at a serious crash site-"

 _"_ _You landed a Thunderbird!"_

"Yes, because we are trying to save lives, you are merely trying to investigate the crash. I can direct you to a safer landing site-" The man had gone to say something, but he merely raised his voice a tone and whatever it was off by speaking over him. "-the same site to which I have directed _our_ other craft and crew due to the _danger_ of landing so close. I suggest you head there and land or go back to your base."

 _"_ _You get those orders from the Colonel?"_

He couldn't help sighing, shaking his head to avoid… well, he wasn't sure what his reaction would have been at this point.

"No, but _I'm_ making an executive decision. _Do not_ , land at the crash site. I don't care if you get involved and start your investigations on the ground, but landing there could put hundreds of lives in danger. I've sent you the suitable landing coordinates, I suggest you head there."

He cut the link before the Captain had time to argue or ask how he was capable of sending data to them without their craft's individual communication details. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them and all that.

He _really_ didn't like that man, and they'd never even met face to face: he could only imagine what would happen if ever they did. Certainly, he could imagine the levels of crazy he'd been driven to having Fischler on board for a while and that _had_ nearly resulted in an airlock failure, despite the fact he'd been initially joking (which in itself was a rarity). He wouldn't be joking if they somehow happened to come face to face now.

"I don't like the Captain." He liked it sometimes, how plain EOS was in her opinions of people. It was refreshing, considering people these days had to label and name things, even simple dislike had to hidden with other words in most parts of society. Lady Penelope had often commented on how ridiculous it was she had to _'mingle with men I severely dislike, not that I can say that.'_ He couldn't resist smiling at Parker informing them that was _his_ job, and further that he enjoyed it.

His opinion of the man certainly didn't go any higher than his codes did, and it hadn't escaped his notice how quickly they thought the same thing, to the moment. Maybe there was something genetic in there after all. Although he'd hate for Alan to be proved right about he and EOS being alike. There were so many things which made that statement invalid, though he had to admit there were a few which proved it, he knew. He kept silent about those when the youngest was around.

"I can't disagree with you there, EOS."

"John?"

Scott.

He quickly changed his systems focus until his brother appeared before him, reconfiguring the screen as he went to load their trail version of a vital scan.

"Here goes EOS."

"I'm currently diverting ninety-eight percent of my capacitors. Anymore would be dangerous." He understood that and so it would have to be enough. He left the system loaded and made to answer his brother. It wouldn't serve to keep him waiting, definitely any longer as he could pass off for other conversations – and that in Scott's book was a short time window. He'd developed the knack of never being late for a check in save the eldest order their youngest up into space for no reason.

"Here Scott. What do you need?" He should be able to give Scott whatever the answer to that question was. Thunderbird Five was definitely more organised than Tracy Island. Yes, International Rescue was well organised, but when everyone had down time on the Island, you wouldn't recognise it as the organisation's base of operations.

"I've just had the update from Virgil." _Nicely done, little brother_ , whatever had been said, Scott was finally sounding like himself again gradually. "For your knowledge, I'm heading into the wreckage now to search for survivors. I'll keep you in the loop and switch to an open channel when I find something. Do you have any notes for me?"

That was Scott's way of demanding the details he never saw. Usually he knew the pilot wouldn't consider them until afterwards, but with so much going on, he probably couldn't help being curious and he likely should know. The GDF were probably amounting to at least half of that problem at the minute. But still, he didn't need to know need to know the full extent. Scott liked to make clear headed decisions, nothing with a clouded mind.

"Nothing at the moment. I'm still trying to sort things with the GDF, but they can't get me a link to Colonel Casey."

He was sure by the temporary silence, Scott would be attempting to think that through and when he spoke, the frown was clear inside his speech, "Why are they so concerned anyway?"

"They're insisting on calling foul play." It was getting tiring; the constant repetitive insistence, Captain Sidwell putting in call after call which he was ignoring. If he could have spared a moment to sit down and catch his breath – so to speak of course – then he would have taken that opportunity, but right now it was something they couldn't afford. Thus, he let talking to Scott take over and reinvigorate him: they could share their anger. It always seemed to help as an outlet.

"Is there enough evidence?" It sounded like Scott had started trying to find a way into the train by the way his voice was straining, mirroring the physical exertion. He just hoped Scott – and Virgil, Gordon and Alan – wouldn't push themselves beyond their limits. Still, always return to the question, that was the basic underline to International Rescue: ask for all the details first and where possible. Oppositely, the GDF didn't work that way and he didn't think they ever would. This time he didn't dare hold back on the details. Scott would very much like to know them and he'd love to divulge them. It might even give Scott a chance to vent his own emotions. Besides, the elder would somehow be able to guess if he was holding anything back.

"That's the point: there's not. It's too early to tell anything really and the main focus should be on those involved in the accident. But they want to land and take a look. I'm trying to dissuade them, at least from landing so close."

He didn't see how hard it was for them to fly a five-minute journey and then make the trek back. They were doing it and they definitely deserved priority over the GDF as to where to land. Colonel Casey would understand, she'd tell them to deal with it and walk, then it would happen. Oh, why couldn't they just see him as the figure of authority for once? Didn't a suit with IR speak enough volumes? As far as he was concerned, they could walk, even if they loathed it, even if they despised him for it. It wasn't like he and Captain Sidwell stood a great chance at meeting face to face. It didn't seem Scott cared much for what they wanted at the moment either.

"Too right. We barely managed to get Thunderbird One down so close. Can you direct them to the same location as Thunderbird Two?"

"I'm trying. They're not having any of it." He almost gritted his teeth to throw the statement out there. The Global Defence Force just didn't seem to understand that they were taking up resources he needed. They needed. He was sure EOS was now very much understanding _annoyance_ as an emotion, because he was definitely feeling in it rushing surges, the last straw taking a step closer to snapping as his most recent try to contact their friend in the force failed again. She had to be out of office for some irritating reason, as the AI informed him so on every update, "It's a stalemate unless I can get Colonel Casey on the line."

"Ok, John, keep trying." The strain seemed to have vanished from the elder's voice, but he didn't know whether that meant he'd actually achieved getting onto the top of the train or not. "Can you do me a favour and keep an eye on all those scans? I'd like to know if anything changes."

Scott had insisted on having a rough idea of what they were dealing with and he'd given the pilot a resource list, he'd just never explicitly made it clear until now how many of those he was over-running. He was just glad no alerts had come up for the track yet. He switched that to his monitoring as well, just in case anyone was being lax or there was indeed a set up. No other train was due on this route for at least an hour and he'd find a different track for it by then. He'd delay it if he had to. It was all just to be sure. He couldn't, after all, have some idiot let another train crash, into _his brothers_ as well this time. Because an hour wasn't going to be enough to clear all of this unless they just called it a write off – and there was no way they could do that: it would live on their consciences forever to not at least try. Besides, considering all he could see and control from up here, it wouldn't make sense if he didn't put a foot towards protecting them. He'd complained when EOS through over-protective back as a label to him. She'd asked what the rest of the Tracy's were like and he'd been more than happy to indulge her, but that was the last thing he'd expected to be thrown back at him. All he could manage to get out was that it was inherited.

"Of course. I'll keep contacting you in intervals."

"FAB." He wondered now more than ever what Scott could see down there, because those three letters were said with more thought than he'd heard in his brother's voice in a while. He could only imagine… "Keep an eye on the police and fire services as well? They're meant to be mobilising now, making their way from Carriage Eleven to meet me in the middle. I'd like to know how they get on too, if you have the time."

Why did Scott seem to think that was going to be a problem? Even with everything he was already doing, he could make time for something else if it was what Scott needed. He was sure his brother should know that by now. He smiled, for no reason other than the kindness his brother was clearly trying to enact by avoiding dumping any more pressure on him. But it was fine: he thrived under pressure. With their family life, that was just the way it had always been and he couldn't see it changing any time soon. He didn't panic, he didn't get side-tracked and he didn't break. Pressure was his second natural place of living, second to space, one above Earth. It was an environment he sat in all the time. One more job didn't bother him, even now, even with all this.

And what better moment than now for their experimental system to truly come into working order. Ok, it could only show him a small field of viewing at a time it seemed, but that was good enough. It would aid them massively he was sure. And so far… yes; it was only going to be one person, but it was one person whose vitals were looking strong, one person who may be able to give the more details tell them things they hadn't known. Saving one person from this wreck, might just help to put Thunderbird One's pilot on the right starting track too.

So long as a backlash didn't evolve from it.

"FAB. Scott, as a last-minute pointer, I'd recommend you start from the engine cabin as opposed to the first carriage, I'm picking up a strong selection of vitals."

"Vital signs now?" He could tell Scott was interested as to how that came about, because he would have known if it was something Brains had installed. They all had regular updates from Brains on the state of each other's relevant Thunderbird, just in case of emergencies. His brunette brother was definitely sounding confused. "I thought you could only get life signs?"

He was glad Scott was impressed considering how quickly they'd devised the whole idea, but praise was never his aim, unlike Alan and Gordon who would sometimes seek to show off their manoeuvring skills. No, this was all about what he could do to make his brother's lives easier (thus enabling them to show off a little to their adoring public). That was the work he did without bother in the shadows. Once again, he didn't dare give Scott the full explanation – one, it was far too lightly to set the elder off on a rant about danger (not what they wanted or needed) and two, it would distract him from the task at hand (also not what they wanted or needed right now).

But he would have to at least try and explain it to Scott in order to settle the man's worries.

"EOS is focussing most of her capacitors on boosting our signals. We're marginally overloading our servers, but I'm directing all other calls to the appropriate organisations, so it shouldn't become a problem."

None of the immediate shoot backs he was expecting came, and so that had to mean something good at least. It's not like Scott could stop him running the program from all the way down there, but if the elder had serious concerns over it, he'd probably have to in order to allow the pilot peace for the duration of this rescue. On the other hand, it's effects would help greatly, and so he had every intention to use it for as long as possible, even if that had to be subtly and behind Scott's back. The answer he did get was definitely toned down, to say the least.

"FAB John, but I don't like it. Promise you'll stop if you start hitting disturbances." He couldn't argue with that even for a moment. If that was the cost of using this new technology then he'd take it. He and EOS could do their best to make sure nothing went wrong and if something did, then they'd respond as they usually did. They wouldn't panic and they'd find a solution. They'd always managed it before. Besides surely Scott could trust that he would actually follow those warnings.

"Loud and clear. Best of luck, Scott."

"Thanks. I'll need it." Now that, hardly sounded like the usual Scott on a grand rescue. He could only hope that finding and pulling someone from the train would help him feel a little bit luckier. He could only hope that effect would take hold anyhow. It would be for the best. He wondered how long Virgil was going to be… Scott could steel his nerves and hold his own, he knew, but the sooner he could have some ground company the better his working mind attitude was going to become.

He had a list of tasks to get on with by himself anyhow so plenty of other things he could turn to, to keep himself occupied with. And he'd have to do and manage with just that. He could listen in on his brother's the entire time, but that would mean keeping extra channels open and he just didn't have the resources dots do that if he was going to keep this new vital-scan program going – which obviously he did, and besides, it wasn't like his brothers needed him to babysit them, especially considering he was already watching their every move from the sky. If he needed to contact them for any reason he could, he just couldn't eaves-drop as much as he might like in this kind of situation. Yet so many other tasks beckoned his resources first, and as bad as it sounded, when International Rescue was needed, his brothers had to come last, and complete strangers in need of help became the first priority. It was a slightly skewed way of working really but it was the life they'd chosen, and so it was and always would be. So, he had to focus, work through tasks, just as he always did.

Now-

It seemed like only seconds had passed when Scott reappeared over his designated communication channel, looking more than little worried. "John, one last thing."

"Yes Scott?" He had a feeling now he knew what it was going to be. If the team which had joined Scott was having trouble with the doors… He immediately began to search through the files for the relevant document he just _knew_ Scott was going to enquire about. EOS had left a nice little highlight on the schematics for this model of train, and so it was a relatively quick process for him to sift through and find the one he wanted.

"Do you have the schematics for this train, because… I don't have door."

Yes, he could see how that wasn't going to be ideal, and definitely as to how that explain Scott's current expression. He was trying to hide it, and he was doing it well, but _he_ knew the elder was stressing. And he had a feeling, a fear rising up from the brief reading he'd done earlier, that he wasn't about to help those stress levels.

"Hold on. I have them here. There is one-" And there Scott went, stealing the words right out of his mouth, just as he'd expected: the elder knew the problem before he even asked. He'd likely only asked to confirm it for definite.

"But let me guess, it's saying hello to the ground right about now?"

"Correct." The single word made his heart drop, but how could he lie?

He couldn't entirely work it out from the angle his holo-version of Scott was thrown, but clearly his brother didn't think much of the answer either. It did make you wonder who built these things. He wasn't sure anymore if he'd personally trust the building of anything which Brains didn't approve of first. He didn't want to make Scott's day any worse either, but this was also something he probably needed to know.

"From the angle the whole train has gone over, you're only going to have door access to Carriages One and Eleven. That means for the main part of the evacuation, you're going to have to keep moving through the carriages."

He wished for once that he could be telling a joke, and that was a rarity in itself, that he wasn't even good at on the best of days when he was trying.

Scott sounded completely perplexed at how something like this was given worthy status for passengers, let alone for general running. They shared that too then. He supposed that the view down there really was what made the eldest of their family so certain when he answered, "There's no way that's going to be possible for everyone."

Didn't he know it. But 'everyone' wasn't the concern of the world these days, only the few.

It was danger territory, that he recognised and there was no way Scott would be able to deal with a carriage full of alive, injured and dead people later if he continued like this. The pilot would burn himself out too quickly, and yes, that was a lot easier to do when you were spread thin on resources and stuck with yourself: he knew that all too well! Yet he also knew how strong his brother could be and that was the side he needed to bring out. The easiest way he could see to do that in this instant was to take a responsibility from Scott's shoulders – to do all the calculations and thinking for him so he could do the rest. That, and to give the slightest push of an order towards him.

"Leave that to me, Scott, I'll dissect the plans in detail now and see what I can find for you. In the meantime, you need to make yourself a door."

This time, he could sense the focus had returned. "FAB."

And with that, the eldest was truly set to go and their link was no more. He waited a breath to see if he called back, but it seemed things had definitely been settled and that finally Scott had been able to get to work with a clearer mind.

So now that Scott really did have all his questions answered, he looked towards answering his own. The GDF problem would just have to stagnate until they acted on something else, though from the direction that two of their planes were beginning to move in, it seemed like they'd heeded his warning or someone aboard had started to speak sense, maybe worried as to what their Colonel's backlash would be if she found out International Rescue had been ignored. He could guess that Captain Sidwell was in the remaining plane, just trying to keep an eye on the scene below him from directly above and leave all the ground work to his Officers most likely. At least it was a start though, a dwindle to the interference they were creating.

Point two, he needed to know what damage their new system was causing. The likelihood was, that it was holding up straight away, it would continue to maintain itself. Or at least, that's what EOS' calculations would suggest unless something was to drastically change on a freak occurrence in the snap of a moment. Even so, it was worth keeping a check on so that any problems could instantly be in hand or hopefully eradicated. Unless this day was just going to bode out of their favour.

"EOS, system update?"

"I'm still maintaining my capacitors at full, though my subroutines are going to kill. Communications – incoming and outgoing – are still holding steady. Thunderbird Five is both secure in orbit and atmosphere. I can't see any negative occurrences so far."

"Good. Keep a constant check on all our systems. Update me if they drop below eighty percent. I'll minimise our usage of any back-up process and unnecessary equipment."

"That should help."

"Let me know if you start losing power." That would give any issues away immediately and hopefully leave him enough time to react.

"Immediately."

With EOS handling all those extra details, it freed him up to continue dealing with the front line and another two calls for help. He shook his head, knowing it just wasn't possible. He re-directed those to Grandma on the Island, she could pass them onto the relevant authorities and that simply freed up another resource for them to use to aid.

He continued to work with the train's schematics in whatever bits and pieces of time he could get whilst monitoring everything else in turn, attempting to deconstruct and reform everything according to the train's current standings. So far though, he wasn't having much luck in finding anything Scott could use and without having a visual of what state the passengers had fallen into inside the carriage, he couldn't be certain what plan to devise for Virgil. It would be key to this rescue to have at least the beginnings of a strategy in place for the middle child by the time he arrived. It would be nice to have something to give to Scott too, but it just didn't seem like he could get anywhere with these schematics. To put it bluntly, they were an absolute mess, and he was certain some coop nets were missing or misplaced anyway. He sent a copy across to Brains just for a second opinion since he needed his eyes on too many things to focus on the schematics alone.

In the end, he decided to completely pull them apart, turning them to the way the train currently lay in order to start analysing the best options from that angle. For the carriages in the middle, he was struggling to think of any hopeful options, because from what his holo-screen's rough vital readings were showing him, it was likely that those people never stood a chance. Double checking that with the schematics of the train seemed to prove it – and really, how did these people get designs like _this_ passed! – as the coupling for these carriages was weaker, designed to navigate bends in the track at high speed. As such though, their connections were weak, buckling highly likely and it seemed those couplings had broken under the pressure. That would certainly explain how Carriages Five, Six and Seven ended up pressed together a little like sardines.

It was just sickening and he needed a moment to look at something else. Besides, he wanted to see how far the authorities aiding Scott had managed to get now that the latest matter was settled. He wondered whether they'd made any progress since he last listened in. He decided he should set his default hope status to unlikely, just so then things would have to look up if even the slightest thing went well.

 _"_ _Are you having any luck with the door?"_

 _"_ _No."_

 _"_ _I'm trying to get the windows off, see if we can start conversing with anyone below. What do you estimate for that door?"_

 _"_ _Give me five."_

Great. At least the fireman seemed to have a procedure.

 _"_ _International Rescue have just handed me the driver."_ There was another of Thunderbird Five's key words and that news was good news from the police reports, _"I'm going to question him now."_

That was another one better. Although, he wasn't sure just how much the driver would know, especially as he was probably going to be in shock right now, likely to ramble.

"Scott is calling." EOS spoke.

So he was. He enhanced that link to be his focus, pulling his ear away from the report Police Chief Martini was giving on being handed the driver.

 _Good going, Scott._

At least it was one to put on the rolling tally. And that couldn't make the rescue a complete loss. One life was always better than none. And every life was just incredible.

He was sure his only elder brother would be delighted something was starting to go their way. And he could more than oblige to tell him.

"John?"

"Here Scott. I've been listening in on the reports from the police and fire services." He wondered if he'd get any retelling of what it was like down there. He would hop down in a second if he could be of any use, but then again, his elder brother would likely end up 'babysitting' (as it had been nicknamed by, guess who) him against the evil forces of gravity. Nor would they have eyes in the sky either and that would be a bigger loss. Someone had to watch that lots back whilst they were down there, and it was fair to say – even if by himself – that he had the best reflexes. Still, he just wanted to know how the brunette was faring, because he doubted for a second that 'well' could cover it. In fact, he was hungry to know that information. Here he was, eyes on and _knowing everything,_ but the pieces of the puzzle missing were those closest to home. He'd heard nothing from the younger three of the family in what felt like eons and his elder brother had been silent for just as long. That was his fear, if he was ever to be honest: that maybe, one day, Earth would come to an end, and all he'd be able to do was view from up here. The one worse, was the prospect that he wouldn't even know it. He wasn't going to push, but maybe Scott had the time to talk for a moment. He certainly sounded a little calmer now and that was likely due to the fact he was riding the winds of his success. As long as it didn't go straight to the elder's head, then he could deal with that.

"You know the driver's out?"

"Yeah, EOS is monitoring their conversation for me whilst we speak." He could imagine Scott's face at that, but he knew his brother's opinions on the now trustworthy AI had shifted somewhat, he just wasn't overly keen on showing it. It was meant to warn his code off from attempting anything malicious again, but when he'd explained that to her, she assured him loneliness was a greater threat. He never disclosed that to Scott though, because then he'd definitely attempt to try harder. John knew the elder loved her really. "You want a quick update?"

Goodness knew he wanted one. He'd gone past _wanting_ really.

"I've managed to get a door to Carriage One open. I'm going to head in."

 _What? Really?_ And he thought _he'd_ had the top of the good news to hand over. Scott was picking one higher. _Like usual then._

"Ok. The made-up crew assisting you from the other end still haven't managed to cut a way in." He was sure he'd heard Scott breathe despair. Though, he thought he'd have to disturb that considering the other things he spent his time finding out, the sickening things, the ones he didn't even want to dare considering. But Scott was going to _need_ to know: he couldn't let his brother walk _blindly_ into _that._ "I think most of the trains systems are going to be down. I'm trying to find any still alive which I could gain control of, but I'm not having much luck – not even a spark. I'm looking for the backup power controls in the schematics, but I can't see them yet. If I can find them I might be able to light a spark. But that means you're going to have to either cut or pull open the sliding doors which separate the carriages."

He supposed anyone else might have tried to find a way to say that with a softer blow, but then, he'd always said things as they were whilst on a mission, and his playing it down wasn't going to do anyone any positive favours. He couldn't keep them in the dark now that he wasn't living in it too.

"EOS is still increasing the range of my scans. Thermal and life scans are showing some positivity for you, in this first carriage at least. I'll move the focus of the scans to match your pace. That way we shouldn't miss anything."

It would save some of their processors too, however he didn't say that considering what Scott's reaction could be. It was always so hard to tell; sometimes the eldest could be as impulsive as the youngest. It was no wonder he criticised Alan for it – he was likely where the kid had got it all from to begin with.

He hoped though, that would at least make up for all the bad news he'd been forced to give all evening. Thus, from simply knowing Scott so well, he could read his brother's mind without needing to see his face or hear an audible sigh of relief. The field leader's next question would be obvious.

"Are you able to-"

"We're mimicking the same effect for the authorities assisting team. I'll send them the same information whenever I can."

He'd grown quite used to being a head above his brothers. Plus, he wasn't ever affected by any jet lag. He knew it always got Gordon on the return journey - it was why the blonde would never go to London. Maybe other than at the call of a certain Lady, which was just ironic.

"Great going, John. I'm going to head in. If you need me call. Give me a second to answer though?"

He could give the brunette all the time in the world, though he'd prefer another call sooner, as opposed to later. Still, calm and collected he had to be, so he played it down.

"I'll give you five."

One for each of them. And he was sure, there'd always be _five_ of _them._

1\. Entanglement principles are actually quite an interesting read of physics. I recommend them.


	3. III: Three

So, it's great to know so many of you are reading this (and hopefully enjoying it). Anyone mind dropping me a review?

You're probably going to pick up on an emerging pattern for the narrative of this piece with this chapter too. Anyhow, enjoy all.

* * *

When the blasted call sign rang, he wished for once they could have ignored it. They were all here, alive and well and kicking, and for once he thought they stood a chance at a quiet evening.

But they were International Rescue, so he shoved that aside, decided he didn't really mind – it was their job after all – and headed out.

Now he would give absolutely anything to be back home, having that quiet evening sat around the piano. Grandma could even bake cookies if she wanted! Anything, _anything_ just had to be better than attending a rescue where there was little you could do. Ok, stopping the other train wasn't little, but staring down at a crash made him freeze. And he never froze, not even in the arctic as he'd reliably learnt.

He kept replaying the piece of the music in his head, the one John had loved, the one he knew their father would have loved, the one he'd grown rather fond of whilst learning it. It was calming him considerably right now.

He couldn't exactly say now what he'd been expecting when they launched, yet what he saw definitely _wasn't_ it. When Scott had asked to know exactly what they were dealing with, he could tell by John's firm and insistent answer that none of them were going to like it, and from that he instantly wished the eldest just hadn't asked.

And then Gordon had to put his foot in it, again. He knew it probably wasn't meant as a joke, but he wasn't in the right place for it when having to rush.

"This isn't a joking matter, Gordon."

"I wasn't."

And ok, it probably didn't serve well to be caught up in tensions already, which he fully suggested was the reasoning behind John telling them exactly what had occurred.

Then when John disclosed his plan, he was sure he could see the better way to do it, but then John was the best to trust. He never steered them wrong, a pattern he continued today. Though with the passenger train saved, there was nothing to stop his focus landing on the horrific scene of the crash itself and it didn't seem to escape anyone else's notice either. Scott and Gordon were silent as they hovered, but he could almost feel the eldest's anger over the radio, sense the eldest blonde's tiredness at just _looking_ at it from beside him.

He didn't have to say anything. Alan summed it up perfectly for all of them,

"Woah… It's… It looks terrible down here."

"I know, Alan." John had echoed. In the wake of it all though, he was trying to do what his elder brother did and try thinking ahead. _Landing._ They needed to land. John had been on the same page, clearly, even reminding them of the pressing darkness, but all that had highlighted for him was the overgrowing problem he'd begun to spot. There was a big problem with getting down there, it seemed, at least from where he was looking. _Would his jets affect the stability of the tipped train?_

"Um… I'm not seeing anywhere for us to land." He was holding out hope that maybe he'd missed something. "John?"

"You can't land anywhere near Virgil. The site isn't stable for One and Two is going to need a much larger landing and standing space than you'll get. Hover for a moment, I'll direct you somewhere else."

 _Oh… What a day this is turning out to be._

All he'd wanted was a quiet evening playing the piano. It seemed as IR that was beyond the realm of possibilities. At least Scott could land though, he could make a start on things and hopefully by the time they joined him, everything on the ground would be in motion. That was all he could hope. In fact, at the rate they were going this early evening, it was probably the best he could hope for.

He waited patiently whilst John guided Scott down before their red-headed brother's focus was on them once again.

"Ok, Virgil head West for a few miles. I'm sending you the details. You'll need to head North West in a bit. I'm trying to find you a suitable landing spot, but I'm not having much luck. I've put you on the path towards the nearest disused runway."

"FAB John." But even as he said it, he knew the elder was leading them quite a way. He just had a _feeling._

 _Typical._

It wasn't a pleasant flight either, not remotely. He was aware he was piloting with way too heavy a grip, far too much tension in his thumbs and everything swirling around inside his head. Dad would criticise, Dad would have been able to pick it up from just a glimpse across at the joints of his hands. So much so that conversation was filtering past him, the voices of his brothers non-existent to the point he almost missed John's latest update.

"Virgil, North West now, you should see it soon." He promptly changed his course before readdressing the burning thought in his mind.

"How soon is soon, John?"

"Five minutes, tops." Five minutes more until he saw it from the air, so ultimately it was going to be a long journey back without the air speeds two could reach. They'd probably only just manage to get there and before the skies darkened.

He sighed, shaking his head as he flew round. This was looking to be impossible, and that was meant to be what they dealt with daily. It all felt so complicated, so hard to work through and even though _this_ was something he did (for a living, for a hobby, had refined and practised from working and training) day in and day out, he found his focus all over the place, his concentration wavering and his flight skills _deteriorating_ beneath him. It was like having some kind of Midas touch, but nothing turned to gold, simply snapped instead.

"Do you think there's any point in us landing?"

Not to mention the impulsive younger's behind him weren't helping any what with their loud and quite frankly unnecessary conversation.

"Of course."

"I _know_ that. But I meant, if we have to go so far away-"

"Yes!"

He didn't want to be hearing all this shouting and angst, not on a good day, certainly not when it was taking every skill he knew to keep Two flying in a straight line. _What's wrong with you Virgil?_ He had to stop letting his consciousness slide into his head, into the deep world of thought or it was going to end up costing them. The last thing any of them needed was for green beauty to join the days crash record.

"But why couldn't we just hover?"

"And do what? Drop the pod on them?"

He almost chuckled – another thing which wasn't helpful. The simple action would have definitely made the eldest blonde believe he was siding with Alan, and they needed their teamwork on the ground intact, not their family squabbling. And Scott thought Alan was the crazy one. Still, an 'argument' of sorts between those to right now would not go in his favour one bit.

"You know we couldn't have stayed at the site, Gordon."

"But _this_ is silly. We're using up precious time!"

"Exactly.' He interrupted the discursive conversation whilst not daring to let up his grip on the wheel, for fear, 'We're losing time with this conversation." He was glad when that seemed to put a close to the matter, when the silence fell again, so he could think and focus and try to work out what they could do. Maybe there was something in Gordon's rash and unthought through plan. Had they stayed, they'd be there _now_ , assisting. That's if there had been anything they could have done. One of them would have had to stay close to Two, they wouldn't have been able to get half the equipment they needed out from a pod hanging in mid-air. On the other hand, this was taking them further and further from the site, but they'd be able to get everything they needed. It was a tricky one, and it angered him too, but in was in moments like these where he just had to tell himself, whatever happened, that surely John did have the best and most informed view. If he said there was no way of them landing nearer, then that had to be that.

"I know. And _I know_ we can't land there. It's just…" As he whipped his head around quickly, Alan seemed to have some clear level of understanding to the feelings of his closest brother in age by the way his face fell. He found that he understood it too. There wasn't a word to explain exactly what _this_ situation was, no description which could do justice, no way of saying it which didn't sound far too fanatical and over descriptive.

He got it all now too. Gordon wasn't challenging John, he was clearly just falling into a sulk at how little they could do, a sulk at whichever streak of impulsiveness, every piece of training, told him to act _immediately._ He definitely understood that feeling, wordlessly. In fact, in this brief moment of perfect silence (broken only by Two's powerful engines) he thought _that feeling_ was the biggest thing connecting them save their blood.

And in that spiralling silence, it would be his job to bring them all back, wouldn't it? He supposed that was what came of being an older brother – and it was times like these he felt sorry for all the similar rallying speeches Scott must have had to deliver to them over the years, even when he was hurting too. Besides, if he didn't diffuse this situation now, what was to stop it coming back to bite them? He was the eldest here right now, that made the younger pair his responsibility, and thus their team morale.

If he could only steady his own nerves first.

"Come on, we're almost there now, I think. Let's just keep our focus where it needs to be, ok?"

"Ok."

"Yeah."

The answers were meek, but they were answers, so he would take them at their face value.

"Good. We'll get back to the crash before we know it if we stop trying to criticise and argue over everything." That wasn't their job. Their job was to help, to save, to _rescue._ "We all know what we need to do."

"That's different to actually being able to do it though, isn't it."

 _Yes, very true._

He didn't tell Alan that explicitly. It was obvious he was right, clear to see that they all agreed.

Gordon was staring out of the window now, perfectly uncharacteristic for the sea farer, but he voiced nothing. There was a look in those brown eyes which just told him the younger wanted some quiet thinking time. Alan was fidgeting, probably unsure whether to say something or not. Whilst that in itself was strange for the youngest, whose impulsivity and immediacy often led to him missing or ignoring things, Virgil supposed it was a trait which came from their work, from having four older brothers, from staring death in the face as much as life. They all just had to face that maybe the kid was beginning to grow up. After all, in this family, it would be impossible to stay a child, to stay your actual age for very long.

He was certain he had the eyes of an eighty years old.

Goodness knows where that put Scott.

Goodness knows where the _situation_ had put Scott.

He wanted to know. He wanted to know how their brunette brother was faring, but he didn't want to call for no reason, to interrupt, to raise the eldest's hopes and have no news. Besides, there would be time for him to find out, a place for everything to reveal itself. That was often the way with life after all: you had to go through the hard fight to get the easy answer.

They definitely had to fight tooth and nail for every day, every life, every matter small or large. It was taxing. As taxing as his flight at the moment, and he _loved_ flying his Thunderbird. Whenever he was in the sky with her he was a slave to her purpose, but right now it felt like he was in the middle of a circus. Considering Gordon had been the only one of them to 'like' circuses – in a very narrow sense of the word – that feeling was completely and perfectly unwelcomed. He'd much rather be a slave.

"Are we there yet?" The eldest blonde asked suddenly, but dully, nothing like the old passionate shouts which haunted his memory of family road trips. For a moment it sounded so foreign to his ears, he'd never have picked the voice out as his brother's in a crowd or if blindfolded.

"It doesn't feel like it." The youngest blonde answered back and there was nothing he had to add to that. Not for a moment, not until he broke through the next low cloud and saw exactly what they wanted.

However, when John said 'disused', he'd clearly meant it. Part of the track were surrounded by broken metal caging, the paint was faded and visible in very few pages and half of the complex which had clearly once stood there had been pulled down. It was far from the ideal runway, but it did look stable and it was both long and wide enough. He supposed the ground was likely safe enough too.

"We're here." He only breathed the words, but he supposed the younger pair had been listening in for them.

Gordon shot alive in seconds. "We're here?"

Alan's head was almost resting on his shoulder as the youngest leaned forward like his body was a snake's. "This is the place?"

"Yes, this is it."

Words didn't describe how overjoyed he was. It seemed Alan and Gordon shared the same revival.

"Well, take us on down, Virge." Where on Earth the aquanaut's occasional impulsive to call him by the new nickname came from he had no idea, but taking them down to the ground, that he had every intension of doing. So, he was planning that descent when the comm finally did beep and he answered it instantly, for whether it was Scott or John, it would be one of his brothers and that was all that mattered.

"Thunderbird Five, to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, I thought you might like an equipment update."

 _John_. Of course it would be. _There wasn't any reason to jump_ , he cursed himself, glad the move of his shoulders hadn't been noticeable save internally. The red-head had likely tracked them and seen they were know close enough to warrant an explanation. In a minute or two, they'd be out of the craft and off to join Scott in the field of action. At least now they wouldn't be left debating what to take once they hit the ground. No, they could hit the ground running, something he imagined was likely more than necessary to meet the demands of this situation.

"I'd love one, John. We're just about to land. I'll send Alan and Gordon to get it all ready."

The pair were already unclipping their seatbelts to his annoyance, but he said naught considering how vital it was they got moving as quickly as possible.

"You're going to want your heavy lifting gear." Yes, the heavy lifting gear he wished his brothers would start calling by their name: 'the Jaws of Life'. It had shocked him actually that Gordon wasn't overly fond of the name either when he announced it and rarely did any of the refer to it as such, least of all John when they were in the middle of a serious mission. It was rare that he didn't use or at least take the gear, definitely if he had a double crew it usually followed them. It hadn't actually occurred to him to take the gear though. He'd been thinking pods, pods and more pods, as little to carry as possible and more transport. He thought that getting there quicker might be a priority, that the less gear they were carrying might enable them to have more hands with which to help with the rescue, with any serious medical emergencies until the ambulance crews could take over, but John could obviously see more, overhear more, or had a descent update from Scott as to the ground view.

It was probably wise to listen to him too.

"FAB, I'll suit up as soon as Two is on the ground."

"Get Gordon and Alan to configure a pod. You're going to want as much cutting and heavy lifting gear as you can get." With that the two were already disappearing, Alan waving as though he'd have time to notice that small detail. Gordon just headed off with a simple,

"On it already, brother."

And fair enough, it was most likely in their favour to take more equipment of that nature. In fairness, with the state of what he'd allowed his eyes to drift over briefly, Scott probably was going to need them to renegotiate everything for him to get out anyone and everyone he may have found by the time they get there. He was about to throw John his answer when the other added, "You'd be best to take multiple first aid kits, as many as you can carry just to be certain. I don't know how willing the ambulance crews are going to be to get inside the train. Currently they're leaving it to the police and fire services, but maybe when there's inside access they'll join."

He had no idea what _that_ implied John had found. Still, in their business, cautious was definitely the best approach. "I get it, no chances. Works for me."

"Right. You might want to pass on an update to Scott. I'm sure he'll appreciate it coming from you."

Oh, he was sure the eldest would. They been far too long by his standards, by Scott's – well, he'd probably expected them to be a while landing, but – the lack of communication would be beginning to point towards something sinister having occurred and the effects of that would be far from positive on his ground work. So it didn't take much to agree with the elder on that, though it would take him a few extras moments than it would Thunderbird Five's operator. No, they couldn't have Scott panicking.

"FAB." He flicked the channels quickly, making one small detour before calling the eldest. "How are you doing back there?"

"Fine. Assembling the pods now." Gordon called back promptly, and he nodded at the knowledge, never once having moved his eyes. That was fine. The pods were being assembled and he'd just cleared all the fencing blocking him from taking Two down.

"Ok, beginning descent."

"FAB!" It was a joint and happier answer from the working pair. _You'd never think it, would you?_ Landing on the ground to go and rescue people in trouble brought out happiness in them, even for a situation like this, the emotional boost, the things it stood for, spurred them on into optimism. Because _this_ was Dad. And so long as they had the Thunderbirds, so long as they could keep doing what they do best, Dad would _never_ really be _dead_.

Now he did flick the switch to open the comms, at the same time as starting to drop some height.

"Scott?"

The response was quick, which told him two things. Scott wasn't knee deep in rescuing anyone at the moment and he'd desperately been awaiting this call. John likely made a _very_ good choice then.

"Go on, Virge. And _please_ tell me you've found _somewhere_ to land?"

"I think I have." He stated proudly, glad to have the right answer to that question, considering just how desperate Scott had sounded – he would have said pleading, but that word should never be associated with the eldest, even if it was so. "John's managed to help me locate a disused field. We're making our descent now and security has been coordinated."

He thought later he could have left the last part off, but it didn't seem to affect Scott vocally at least. On the other hand, he was sure Thunderbird One's pilot had to be driving himself bonkers by now, dealing with so much alone and he continued to dread having to reveal exactly how far they flown. He didn't want to completely cut any traces of bounce from Scott's steps, especially not this early on in what was going to be a long night.

"Great. I'll see you soon." Why did he dare even think that he might have managed to escape the task? He dreaded having to cut those hopes as the rising sun does the night. He wondered whether Scott could sense that in his silence, his tone dead as he spoke again and maybe it was that which undermined the mood.

"I wouldn't hold out on the _soon_." Scott remained silent – _great_ – he'd definitely dashed his brother's hopes. The best he could do now was damage control, "We're quite a way away, but there isn't anywhere closer which is safe, large enough or stable. We're going to bring as much equipment as we can as soon as possible."

"Ok." It seemed like a situation recovered to a degree. "I'm going to start on an evac of the passengers."

"Right. Be careful Scott." _We'll join you soon._ He'd told himself he'd make good on that promise. Scott may be the eldest, he may think he rules over the worrying privilege, but he wasn't the only one capable of doing so. He worried now he knew Scott was out there trying to do everything on his own. He could by all means have the first shout over it, but in no way did he get the crown.

"FAB." He tried to keep his concern internalised. It would only be another thing for the pilot to focus on unnecessarily if it seeped through. He tried to bring the control back into his voice. He needed Alan and Gordon to see all as well, he _needed_ them to keep their energy, because he was definitely losing his. The more he knew… it was never knowing more, it was always knowing less and it was sapping every piece of strength he'd left the island with. Seeing the sight of the crash itself had stolen a lot, piloting Two the extra distance another bite more, and now the journey in the dark was taking gradual slices of what remained.

In the dark, of knowledge and fleeing light.

Even as he blinked, the night was darkening, drawing in close. It was unsettling, not knowing hardly anything and not being able to see to recognise anything. He didn't think he'd ever feared the dark: he did now.

The landing was far from his best, slightly bumpy and maybe even only narrowly missing scraping the paint of Two's undercarriage. He cringed at the thought. At least if Gordon had been flying he could have blamed lesser skills. Any scraps would be entirely his fault and he was so used to them being few and far between (just the way he liked them), not to mention caused by an outside source as opposed to himself.

It was hard to think that he hadn't been flying at one hundred percent, his body seeming to have naturally moved, his brain compensated for any lack in consideration of control whilst he mused on and on about the situation. It was probably only these in-built reflexes which had stopped him from crashing entirely, although he hoped – and wished – that it would never have come to such.

This landing was far from what he would even call one, at least in his book. Even if his in air flight wasn't perfect, he was used to pulling off good, sound and scrape-free landings with ease. He wasn't accustomed to messing up in the slightest. He wasn't Scott, however he still held all the flight skills he deemed necessary. He decided it was probably better if he thought little of it, maybe even if he wiped this whole day from the records later. After all, it could hardly be afforded, for him to dedicate so much time to what was – in the scale of things at least – a rather trivial point.

He took a deep breath, thinking briefly about what Scott had said. _Starting on an evac of the passengers…_ that meant he needed them there, their support, their strength and their skills. Besides, even though he knew the eldest would be capable of coping, he _wanted_ to be there. _He_ wanted to be able and ready to lend a hand to whatever was needed, wherever. It was the way they had always worked, and he supposed he wasn't used to abandoning form. It was the same whenever Scott headed out on a rescue without him. He could only ever sit at home, twiddling his thumbs, wondering whether or not he could have been of any use if he was there.

He took another breath. They were here, safely landed – if not completely intact, though really the paintwork held no matter against the weight of this situation – and all that remained was for them to _move._ That was the simplistic version, which was sometimes far better than the complex, especially if the meaning was always the same.

He flicked the comms on, lowering the module at the same time. He knew what answer he wanted to hear, but decided not to hold the air in his lungs just in case. It seemed odd, considering he knew his ship as well as he did their home, for Two's main frame to be rising so slowly. Of course, the rational part of his mind knew exactly why that was and felt so.

As such, he chose to ignore it, instead voicing over the static, "Gordon, Alan, how are we doing with the pods?"

"Ready to go." The eldest blonde called back, his tone missing most of its usual humorous inflection, leaving just enough that you wouldn't fall into worry mode over it, however enough to tell you that the mission was taking an early toll.

Still, at least that was an answer he liked the sound of. Things were moving and not a moment too soon. Two finally stopped moving and he lowered the ramp of the pod, intent on not holding back anything else which could easily go ahead. He didn't want anything which was in their power to be slower than it had to be. In cases like this, it was every second counts. If his younger brothers were on top of things, they were aiding him to be able to do the same. All he had to do now was exactly that, so they could hurry up and get to the site in order to pass the same help onto Scott.

"FAB, I'm going to suit up. I'll join you outside."

"FAB," Returned the joint response, before he heard the pair heading out, the pods traction scrapping down the ramp. He headed through to the module himself, letting the mechanic arms fix his gear in place. He tried to relax. Usually, this was easy. He could never predict what he'd see out there, but usually his muscles were at least calm at this time, burning and ready, but not tense. Tense muscles could do nothing for him in this line of work; they'd lead to mistakes. They couldn't afford mistakes.

His two blond brothers were waiting with barely contained patience in the pods, their eyes following his path down the ramp, the mechanical whirring of his gear continuing loudly with each step. It felt somewhat like a lullaby.

"Are we going?"

"Yes, Gordon. Move out." The two blonds turned thier pods quickly and began to steer away, he following their every move, desperately hoping the way back would be easy enough to find. Time was against them, so terribly against them now and there seemed no way to encourage his boots to stamp prints any quicker into the hard, dry ground.

The unyielding run was making him out of breath, prevaricating for a second wasn't an option though. Despite what little breath he had to spare for talking, there was just something he couldn't chance not knowing for certain. Gordon and Alan would definitely beat him there, so they'd need to know this too.

"John..?"

Always listening, that red-head, _thankfully!_ He wasn't sure he'd ever been more thankful for their older brother's skills. He wished he could be half as calm of their Spaceman sounded right now as the words flew back, "What do you need?"

"Are we going in the right direction?"

"Your path looks to keep straight ahead. You'll be able to see a GDF planes hovering above the area." Yes, he could see that, even from a far distance. Why they were still there, he had no clue and he could bet it was annoying Scott terribly. But even as he watched it seemed some of them were moving closer. He smiled. Maybe John had engineered something after all. "When you see Thunderbird One's tail engines, turn to your right, you'll end up beside the tracks. You'll get there. Other than that, stay straight."

"Ok..." He was glad John had such faith in him. Personally, he wasn't sure he'd make it over there at this rate, especially as he was already beginning to feel as though collapsing was possible. They hadn't even travelled _that_ far yet. Still, Alan and Gordon's fleeing pods reminded him just how far ahead they were becoming. The frown on his direct elder brother's face was audible.

"You sound out of breath, and you're moving quickly." The second part he knew John was picking up from his holo-screens, but he supposed the first was easy to hear in his labouring tones. Regardless, the answer was simple.

"Scott needs us."

"I know, Virge." John answered, straight and simple in agreement. Still, the warning was obvious… _don't kill yourself getting there._ He wanted to ask… He desired to know if an update was going to be pushing it, whether John had the time, whether _he_ had the time to listen in return? Running was just a hard task to keep up when he had no clue as to its purpose. He didn't have a clue what he was heading towards other than _Scott, train crash, death_ – _no, Virgil, don't_ dare _think that!_ Thinking that was just an impossibility. As soon as he let his mind fall into that vision, it would all be over. Even so, it seemed John had read that from him too, even without seeing his face. "He's managed to get the driver out. Last I knew he'd entered the train itself."

"Right." _Thank you_ , was the unspoken text. It seemed things were at least moving on Scott's end, even if they weren't necessarily going well. John hadn't given him a full, detailed progress report, so he supposed that was something Scott had yet to give him. For all the things John could see, he didn't have x-ray vision; for all the things Scott could do, he was terrible at multi-tasking when it came to talking and action simultaneously. The eldest was definitely an act first, talk and update you later man, the complete contrast to John who worked both in perfect, unmatchable harmony. Still, as much as he knew that to be true of his eldest brother, he couldn't help the pulling anchors on his heart - desperately trying to sink it - as he thought that just maybe Scott hadn't updated John because it simply _wasn't possible_. If anything, it only made him want to hurry up, however short of breath he was. "Let him know, _we'll_ be there _soon_."

"I will." That was John's part of the promise. He wondered what Alan and Gordon's part was? He wondered just _what_ it would take to _fulfil_ it. "Do you want me to relay the same instructions to Gordon and Alan?"

He had planned on doing that himself, but he was beginning to realise now exactly how impossible that task was. The pair had gained so much distance on him in the moments it had taken him to slow down in order to be able to talk to the red-head without chocking on non-existent air. If he wanted to get there any time soon he _had_ to pick the pace up, and he could only do that if he could _breathe,_ so that made the sensible option to give the task to the taskmaster.

"If you have the time."

"Always for you, Virgil."

"I estimate…" He couldn't do the calculations in his head for once, every inch of stamina he had was being drained (physically and mentally), and that seemed to zap his brain power. "Double what those two will do it in."

"FAB. I'll talk to you when I can."

That, meant _when I have something_ , for he knew John could talk to them all twenty-four seven and still be in complete control of all Thunderbird Five's systems and handle any incoming calls. The second son was a multi-tasking genius who he admired. Right now, it was hard for him to talk and run, something which really shouldn't be a struggle for him. This was what they'd all trained for: endless laps around the island equal to the distances John was throwing at them for how far they might have to go from machine to scene. He was glad they'd done the exercise now, even though he'd been the last to see its intended point beforehand.

"FAB…" It was barely a spoken breath and he wasn't sure if John heard it. He simply put all his focus into the task at hand, noticing how the pods disappeared from his view as they dipped down from the brow of the hill. Leaving him alone to cross the terrain.

He'd never been afraid of the dark.

He was pretty _terrified_ now.

 _Come on, Virgil!_ It couldn't be that much further. _Surely?_

He took a glance back to the large imprints his boots were making, the trial he knew was long, but only minimally visible. Thunderbird Two was little more than a looming spot, barely recognisable for what she was. The dark cloud seemed to be rolling in like a black, impenetrable fog, steam-rolling everything in its path. That, he soon believed, would likely include him. It was times like this he thankful for the large and powerful LED spotlight installed into his gear, for else, he would certainly be lost.

He kept trying to convince himself there wasn't too far left to go, yet he knew there was lengths of land to be crossed, Thunderbird One yet to have even emerged into his view, and he was looking so carefully at every angle – despite speeding past. That was just down-heartening in itself.

Engines droned overhead, suddenly knocking him from his stupor, and he stopped momentarily. Re-orientating himself, he glanced upwards, his eyes meeting the bellies of the GDF's carrier planes. Even their large grey shells were disappearing into the shadowy realm behind them, the front lights beaming through, yet appearing as though they had no body to be connected to. All he could really tell is that they were heading the way he'd come, so they must be planning to land down by Thunderbird Two and the disused runway. He took the chance to take a deep breath before starting off again, his eyes never failing to notice the singular familiar shadow of a GDF plane still hovering, unmoved. That gave him some idea as to where he was headed. _That,_ made him realise he was still quite far away.

 _Oh damn!_

He wasn't even sure he could pick up the pace, not with all this gear carrying. Yes, the Jaws of Life had been made to be deliberately light-weight on _him_ , yet they were also suitable for considerable levels of heavy duty work. That element carried with it the weight, the extra mass which his exhausted bones weren't already carrying. It felt like every step stuck his boot to the gravelled, sandy quality of the empty land.

If some tracks could just appear out of thin air sometime soon, he would more than appreciate it.

Using the plane as his marker, he tried to keep the pace up, but he had to slow at points in order to take in harsher, deeper breaths. It seemed futile. He was more than aware how often that word appeared in his mental conversation.

And that was worse than the physical tax; the demands on his mentality were considerably worse. It was just as if the oxygen had given up on reaching his brain, like every neuron pathway was entering shut down. He just had no control over what ran through his mind as he tried to keep every part of his body alive and focused; no choice to cut it off either in case it killed all strategic and smart thinking he had with it. But the turmoil was impossible to control, it spiralled and took him down with it like a potent gravity well catching unaware prey as they shot through the atmosphere. He was now prey, victim to the wicked delusions and insistence of his own mind. His feet as they hit the ground were initiating his heartbeat, creating a rhythm on top of which everything else built. It seemed his pace was included in that mix, his speed pushing up to limits he never thought he'd cross, to points which would make him sweat _before_ he even lifted a muscle. It was an endless cycle of repeated thoughts, one he tried to cut off each time before it went too far.

 _Running, dark coming, run faster, crash site- Keep running, darkening skies, run faster, have to get there, hurry, rescue, Scott, train crash, death, dark, see the stars soon, far away, John, cold, humourless, sad, so humourless, Gordon, cope, keep pushing, wreckage, got to keep going, home, no energy, need energy, Alan, pods, so far away, rescue - Impossible._ Scrap all that. Virgil, _Wreckage, crash, plane, rescue mission, train crash,_ Virgil, _rescue, death, train, impossible, train crash,_ Virgil, _death, death…_

"Virgil?"

He stopped, almost frozen from the moment his feet came to their jagged, unexpected halt, his gear likely being the thing which kept him from toppling entirely. It was the voice in his helmet which freed him from the one in his head, his gratitude immeasurable. He took in a gulp of the thinning air, greedily sucking it in as his heart pounded harshly and most unwelcomed against his rib cage; bones which (at this moment) felt nothing like five times stronger than steel.

"J-John?" He was hoping his direct elder would pass that waver off as believable breathlessness.

"Are you alright? I've been calling you for a while." He would have rathered that go unspoken, better yet, have been unnecessary. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he'd missed the elder call him completely and in their line of work that was incredibly dangerous. Even more so with ther relationship; brothers definitely panicked more for each other's safety than mere colleagues. He supposed that was dangerous in itself, but there was no one else he would trust to do this job alongside him. International Rescue could only ever be – and would only ever be – Jeff Tray's sons. _His Legacy._

"Yeah." He blinked again, desperate to try and return some hold over his own mind. He needed clarity. He needed… to be Virgil Tracy. "How am I doing?"

Whilst he had John's attention, he might as well ask, and who knew the answer might just stand a chance at brightening his day.

"You're not far away. Another mile or so to go."

 _Or not._

He sighed. That wasn't really what he'd wanted to hear. It would take him at least another ten minutes to join his brothers, working on that information. Even so, he pushed it to the back of his mind and started to move again, running at a slow and steady pace which he could keep up whilst talking to the communications expert. There was clearly another matter at hand; like the reason for _why_ John had called in the first place, "Ok, what did you need?"

"It's not something I needed as such. I was just checking in." That translated to _need_ , but of course, out of them all John was the last to need or want anything. At least in clear spoken word. Still, it gave him a chance to ask the questions on his mind, despite his lungs burning in protest.

"I'm ok. How's Scott? Gordon and Alan?" He found that once he'd asked, he desperately needed to know in order to continue. Strength came in knowledge sometimes, just the knowledge that someone was ok could be enough and that was all he needed. Enough to give him a burst of energy to keep pushing on with. Because the dark was just proving too hard to beat.

"Gordon and Alan should be arriving any moment now."

Hoo- _blinking_ -ray. Something good occurring, finally. Scott would get some extra aid and that in itself was positive. As long as they weren't stuck alone again. Though of course, he was alone right now. And on rescues, it was a nightmare, just as much as it was their living nightmare to lose a brother. He had to stop all this negative thinking. Just because it was a possibility – let's face it, nearly anything in life was (and what was thought impossible, International Rescue have practically broken the boundaries down) – that they could lose one of their own, didn't mean it would happen if they were left on their own. He knew, Scott was incredibly capable, and that the eldest of them (reckless though he was) would make the right choices. He just hoped they'd be the right for _them_ as well as those they were trying to rescue, because now was not the time for being wholly self-sacrificing. He could only hope Alan and Gordon joining in the mix wouldn't lead into another disaster zone. He could image just how easily those two would become overwhelmed.

"I haven't received any word from Scott in a while. I've tried a few times, but he said to bear with him."

That instantly hit him straight away, cutting through whatever minor glee he'd been beginning to feel. That couldn't be good news though, hearing nothing. Hearing something would at least be better, even if it was just a word to say he was alright. That meant they still had no idea as to what they were dealing with… what state anything down there was in, apart from what John could provide them with. Still, the positive lay in Alan and Gordon's imminent arrival, he supposed. So that was what he had to keep focussing on. Scott had entered radio silence before and been just fine. He had to imagine that as the case.

"How long do you 'bear with him'?" He enquired, regardless, wondering where John's infinite patience came from; because if he was in the elder's place, he knew there would be no way to stop him from calling until someone answered. It would probably make him more of a hindrance than a help – another thing John never was and which suited him to his job – and likely he'd just end up making a mess of everything. Besides, on the rare trips he took to space, he was never sure if he liked gravity. He was much happier down here on Earth, working with gravity to do what he did best, considering of course, he could do little heavy lifting in space.

"I'm going to try and call him again, more insistently, don't worry." He had no doubt John would succeed with _that_ tone emerging. He probably wouldn't have been able to succeed whether he took that tone or not, considering he'd likely have broken Thunderbird Five's equipment. He wasn't certain, but he had a feeling he'd just growled down the line at his red-headed brother. _Oops_. Maybe it wasn't Scott, Gordon and Alan he should be worrying about. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"FAB. You said it yourself, I'll be there soon." They both knew _'soon'_ didn't exactly translate to its dictionary meaning, but saying it made him feel slightly reassured. He couldn't tell what John thought of its use, as his older brother remained perfectly silent. He wondered if the younger pair of Tracy brothers had made any more progress, whether they'd found Scott yet? And considering he was going to have to give up talking to John soon in order to pick up his pace (if soon was still on the intention list off course), he conjectured that it might be worth asking just the once more. "What's the update… from Alan and Gordon?"

"When they give the next one to me, I'll give it you." That was the way they always worked, namely because it worked. He had no arguments to that either, even though John had sounded slightly dismayed to not have anything further. He probably should have opened his holo-communications channel in hindsight, just to see John's expressions. He'd always preferred to have face to face updates any day, even though he knew they weren't always logistically possible.

Ultimately, he just wished he could _hurry up_ and _get there_.

 _Ideally before I run out of breath, stop being able to use my lung capacity, or burn through the soles of my boots._

Still, none of that was worth verbalising. It would just waste time, and air he needed. It would bring up an irrelevant conversation for John – which he was sure the elder couldn't afford to spare the moments for – and a pointless one for him to undertake. Besides, he could make a perfect series of jokes about it later, just like they always did and forget all about it. He hoped they could have that usual shared success and family outcome. It wasn't really worth thinking about right now though.

 _Get on with the job at hand, Virgil._

He just needed to pull himself together, and the seeable step to doing that was to _move_. They usually worked best when they were rushing around like a family of five headless chickens in all reality anyway. The second way to do it, was to let John get back to the magnitude of other things he must be in the middle of or needing to do, to which he would just be taking up necessary resources. He didn't want to, because at the moment the spaceman was his only connection to his brothers, but there was no other option.

"Speak to you soon, John." He hoped the red-head would pick up on the subtle hints of their conversation, of that simple line, and keep tabs on him. He knew he was draining energy far too fast, and he knew the majority of that was caused by emotional trauma he hadn't - and still wasn't - prepared for.

The image he'd seen from Two's window was meagre, restricted, but it was sufficient. It was all he'd seen and it was already far too much. From the simple way the structure had manoeuvred itself, he didn't hold out much hope for the state of the interior, for the people who had been chucked around inside it like popcorn kernels. It was a problem, one he hadn't quite expected, even with John's description. And it made him feel physically sick to recall the way the metal had begun to coil, the wheels rolled afar, the carriages melding at the couplings…

 _No, no, no… He couldn't afford to be sick now, of all the times._

There seemed very little left to hold on for, except reuniting with his brothers, except trying to make the best out of a bad situation. Even so, it didn't seem _enough_.

He supposed he wasn't coping well without his brother's close either.

"Of course, Virgil. Let me know if you need me." At least that told him John had missed his subtly, or that he hadn't been very good at utilising it.

He took another breath and tried to run faster once again, tried to think about the structure of sheet music he no longer needed to view in order to play the transcribed tune, anything which wasn't _that_ image. He focused his eyes on the GDF's plane, on searching for any sight of Thunderbird One's pristine paintwork.

He _kept_ going. Because that was all he could do.

 _It's all I can do._

It was likely all that they could all try and do.

It was a struggle. Not the one he'd expected when they left either. He imagined now they wouldn't make it back until morning, and he hated flying in shifting skies, especially when flying back to home. It made him sleepy if he was honest, yet he'd just become very good at fighting against it. After all, being a pilot was half of his job, not to mention that he had to at least attempt to show up the fly boy of the family at some point. It was getting extremely dark incredibly fast now and he wasn't sure how much longer his spotlight would be of use for him to see a couple feet in front of his face. He felt sure that it shouldn't have become quite this dark in such a short space of time (unless he'd fallen asleep without knowing it, or maybe was running with his eyes closed!) and that worried him. They'd be making this rescue in the dark for certain, and it wasn't an idle choice for these conditions.

He wasn't even going to think about what the weather could do, since knowing their luck, he'd probably be responsible for summoning the storm.

 _It can't be far now._

It really couldn't because he didn't have the energy to continue on for too much longer. He ran a mile in an average of ten minutes, maybe twelve in this gear, but this felt like it had been a one hundred and twenty hours too long.

He didn't want to, but he had to take a moment to pause and catch his breath anew.

Looking up, he realised that at least the GDF's plane was closer, which meant he had to be in tow. It just couldn't be that much further. Now where was Thunderbird One? Because that would just brighten his day enough to dispel the night. He was even beginning to feel the chill beneath all the layers of his suit and gear.

 _Come on._

He scoured the area, starting off at a simple walk again, at least until he recovered some power of his own. He knew it was going to consume - extra (yeah, right) - time they didn't have, and probably double his already doubled estimation as to when he'd arrive at the site. He knew it couldn't be afforded, at all, but there was little else he could do. He almost felt as though he could keel over. That, he knew wholeheartedly, wouldn't be a hard task either; He could do that as easily as he could stay asleep through the mornings before they started International Rescue.

His tread was heavy, weighted, and he feared if he stopped completely he would never get moving again. At the same time, he panicked that if he started to run he wouldn't make it there at all. That was worse than making it there late as far as he was concerned, but still, it was a task he felt he knew not how to complete. When they'd landed, he'd been so enthusiastic to be able to get on the ground and start their journey back that he hadn't considered the distance he'd have to go, especially not on foot.

Even though he was certain John would talk endlessly to him if he asked, he didnt want to put that extra pressure onto their older brother when he surely had so much to coordinate already. He knew he just had to keep going, alone, but _never alone_ in truth. He had to keep going, to keep on moving with the little energy he had within himself, by using the wider dynamism he had supplied by his brothers, and the strengths of their relationships even from afar. He knew there was hope in things still somehow turning around for the better, in them being able to go home before the evening fell anew at home: it was all merely so hard to see beneath the darkness, through the black with had settled, the thick blanket of night.

He just needed a sign that something was going to go their way. Just one little thing would do.

That's all he was asking for.

 _Just_. the. _one_.

He gradually tried to start picking up his pace again.

That would do it for him. He wouldn't ask for anything else today, no more miracles, nothing whatsoever in any capacity. He wouldn't dare. He just had one thing to ask and he'd happily leave it be.

It was all he was asking for.

He broke back into a run, his lifting gear whirring with every speedy movement.

 _Please, just the one._


	4. IV: Four

So enjoy the next chapter. There may or may not be an update next week as they've scheduled work on internet service. If it's fixed there will be one, if not, I hope you can survive!

* * *

He wanted to go home.

That wasn't something he thought likely either.

Yes, he loved their Island home, but the opportunity of a rescue was always delighting, a way to get out and see the world, not to mention escape Grandma's cooking. Rescues – save swimming – were what he did best and usually he had some confidence ready to carry him through.

 _Smashed_.

All of it in a space of seconds. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be looking at, despite _knowing_ exactly what he _should_ be seeing. John's words were still bouncing around in his head,

 _'_ _The accident is a crash between a cargo train and a twelve-carriage passenger train. The train is currently on its side and in a varied state. The cargo train has practically broken apart, but at the speeds they collided we're looking at a range of serious injuries, possibly fatalities.'_

And he'd not believed the elder to be serious about the last part until Virgil flew them over the sight, making him glad that he was inside the green giant for a rarity. Down there, looked worse than anything he'd seen yet, and he had a long rescue history record to speak from. He had many words for it, but _hideous_ was the one which stuck out.

 _Deadly,_ was the one he tried to ignore.

But he knew it. He didn't want to, he didn't want to believe it, and he certainly didn't want to be the first to back off due to the likelihood of it, yet it was undeniable that John had been right. That John had most likely been trying to use save tactics to stop them from foreseeing this, to try and keep their focus set where it was needed.

 _'_ _Range of serious injuries, possibly fatalities.'_

No, John for all he could see had been wrong in that choice of wording.

 _Definitely fatalities._

He would be surprised if everyone down there was alive, in fact, he'd be miffed and he'd name it a miracle despite no longer believing in them.

He couldn't be sure what it was, the feeling that had settled over him. It was a large mix of revolted, sick, weary and angered, all of them directed towards different people and things, all of them potent and strong. His humour felt like the fuse had been blown clean out which was terrible in itself: it was _his_ coping mechanism and it felt as though the ability had fallen off the face of the Earth, descended far away from his reach. He couldn't bring himself to let his eyes look out the window anymore. He had the image _burnt_ into his brain. He didn't need to keep looking. Down below was simply a mess of muddled and crumpled old metal, broken bones and crippled structures. _Death._ It was the first thing he wanted to avoid, and the last thing he wanted to have to face.

Damn, this was just meant to be a simple few days as brothers, with all of them on the fricking planet for once!

 _And I was the one to put the foot in the door of course._

He needed to start listening to Alan's nickname for him, _'The Call Summoner',_ because it was often true. Or if it wasn't a rescue which occurred, he'd end up signing himself into something by opening his gob.

He didn't know what he was feeling really. Humour had always been his grounding point; there wasn't humour here, there couldn't be, that made him lost. He knew what had incited these feelings, but not where they'd come from. On the other hand, he knew exactly where the impulse came from which led him to a likely stupid choice of words, but he felt they needed to be said. Because he couldn't see right now, from up here at least, what there was they could do to assist in the clear up of bodies.

"Do you think there's any point in us landing?"

His voice sounded quite in his head, but the sink in Virgil's shoulders seemed to suggest he'd spoken louder than he'd realised. Even though he'd spat the words out, he still wasn't sure what his aim was. What did he want them to do? Turn around and go back home? _Yes please._ Would they? _No._ Was _that_ even what _he_ really wanted? _Probably not._

 _So why did you even say it!_

"Of course." Alan stated, as though it was the simplest of things to know, because really, it was. He was being thick and stubborn and quite frankly stupid, but still the words rolled from his tongue with no approaching buffer. He needed his humour back; that was what he knew how to use. He didn't know how to utilise any of what he was currently feeling to his advantage, least of all to deal with what they were heading to.

So that made it logical in his mind for them _not_ to go, because then he didn't have to try and find that answer. _Or fail._

"I _know_ that. But I meant, if we have to go so far away-"

"Yes!"

He wondered is the slight bump in altitude was intentional, a method to try and get them to shut up maybe. He didn't want to think about the other options, because Thunderbird Two couldn't become a wreck like _that_ too. No, they just needed to go home to where they were safe. Or if not, they needed to be avoiding this stupid, pointless venture into the middle of nowhere with the dark rapidly approaching them.

"But _why_ couldn't we just hover?" They could have done something from the air. Not to mention looking down would have been optional. On the ground, there was no way he wouldn't have to look at the wreckage at some point. He was certain if he did he'd end up being violently sick. Then he'd be no use to anyone.

 _You're not even any use to them now!_

He was trying to fool himself. Scott knew how to use anger; John could work as weary as they come without fault; Virgil had always been good at holding back his sickness at sights; and Alan – who had become so annoyed with the state of the world early on in life – had plenty of experience in use the appalling for waves of energy. He was the funny guy. _That_ was how he worked. _That_ ability seemed to have died and left him. He wasn't sure if it was looking to come back either.

"And do what?" Alan sounded horrified at the suggestion for a moment, before his intonation u-turned and suddenly he was thrown back with the appearance of angered-humour, "Drop the pod on them?"

Virgil's shoulders moved again from the corners of his eyes, but the only words the middle child delivered were, "You know we couldn't have stayed at the site, Gordon."

He felt like they were ganging up on him, he felt like a victim, he felt _lost,_ and it was all completely ridiculous because he was supposed to be the one bringing the jokes to break the tension. Instead, he was the one creating the tension and he was clueless as to what to do in response to that. It was all a foreign language to him, maybe even ten different ones.

"But _this_ is silly. We're using up precious time!"

"Exactly. We're losing time with this conversation."

He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it again like a fish, only having taken in air. He didn't appreciate the silence, because it gave him time to self-analyse, to think about the things he'd said. Things he never would have uttered in his right mind. It was so rare that a rescue skewed him, that he just wasn't used to this. It was also incredibly rare that his humour would fail him, leave him bare and vulnerable. He didn't like this version of him and he wanted the person he knew to take control inside his head. Truthfully, he'd never been good at facing death. Dealing with it, well then you could wear as many fronts as you liked, but facing it (in their line of work for certain) there was no hiding. Humour had only ever been the thing to do exactly that, whatever the case. He supposed Alan's comment had actually been a little bit funny, because there was no way they could do that, and… well, that was just the sort of thing he would have suggested if the roles were reversed. He glanced at his only younger brother, annoyed to see the sadness lining his face. Yes, most of it was probably from the situation, yet part of that situation was now down to him. Making it worse for no reason. There was, after all, nothing else they could do. This was the only option and he supposed they had to take it. He sighed, pushing the air out through his slightly parted lips in thought.

"I know. And _I know_ we can't land there. It's just…" He saw the flicker cross his fellow blonde's face and considered that Alan was now able to acknowledge the demon which had been sitting with him. He only hoped that Virgil would too. He never would have suggested something like that in a sane state of mind, and it definitely wasn't what he believed. Still, he didn't need to think of the way that sentence _should_ end, which made him incredibly relieved.

He just hated feeling like there was nothing they could do, and nothing he could do to try and aid his brother's morale. He'd never really needed anyone to aid his own. He was the joker of the family: he'd always done it for himself and everyone else.

"Come on, we're almost there now, I think." He imagined that was the best attempt Virgil could muster at a rallying speech, although at least he was _trying._ "Let's just keep our focus where it needs to be, ok?"

And he was right.

"Ok." He knew his answer was small, Alan's barely any louder, although he didn't feel he could manage anything else without beginning to unravel, more so than he already had. He wanted to scream – _this wasn't like him_.

"Good. We'll get back to the crash before we know it if we stop trying to criticise and argue over everything. We all know what we need to do."

Yes, they did. He didn't dare voice anything though, because it would just be the final nail in his coffin. Alan seemed to pick up on his train of thought though, and almost immediately the younger blonde had given the pilot an answer essentially from them both.

"That's different to actually being able to do it though, isn't it."

He didn't even want to think about the possibilities awaiting them.

It felt like they'd travelled along way, so he risked throwing his eyes out towards the view. He'd never been keen on looking outside of Two, being so high up and far away from the calming waves, but now – with no accident in site – the clouds were serving to reassure him somewhat. At least, they were so long as he kept imagining them as fish and seaweed. He didn't think there was any strength left in his voie. No hope left in his mind. No humour left in any bone of his body, something so essential, born and bred. He would have given anything to be able to jump beneath the waves right now, hold his breathe for as long as possible and just _consider._ And if there was nothing to consider, at least it would usually help him to settle the tsunami in his mind, to help him recover _himself_ , like a perfectly natural drug.

Virgil and Alan both seemed happy to be in the air, and unusually for him, he was beginning to feel happy up high too. Still, he'd always choose the sea, but right now in the battle between land and sky, the atmosphere had to win for the first time. _Horrific_ images lived in his head, and that was the only reasoning for the peculiar conclusion. Even so, he wanted to land sooner as opposed to later, because they just needed to move forward with this rescue. It was a hard enough one as it was, without them being stuck separated by miles of land. He didn't want to see the crash, he wanted to see Scott.

He wanted to know things were going to be _ok_. Or as ok as they were going to be capable of being in a situation like this. He just wanted something to hold onto at the end of the day, something to take home which wasn't doom and gloom.

 _It has to be possible._

Considering they made the impossible happen nearly everyday, he was sure there had to be something they'd be able to salvage. There wouldn't be much left to do so with though if they didn't _hurry. It. Up._

Completely aware that he might turn back into the five-year-old child from their family road trips, he enquired, "Are we there yet?"

But he realised it didn't really sound like _him_ , or certainly that version of him that everyone knew, loved and thought of: the one even he considered in his mind to be the representation of Gordon Tracy.

"It doesn't feel like it." Alan grumbled back, which hardly made him hope. He whacked his head into the back of the seat, not enough to attract attention, but enough to feel the effect.

"We're here."

At first, he was sure he'd imagined Virgil speaking, that the words were only figment of his imagination. That surely, the world couldn't just flip on them like that in an instant, despite the fact he _knew_ damn well that it could. The elder's words seemed to fly away quickly on the air, but even with that uncertainty, he couldn't halt from throwing himself forward with excitement and belief that this was it.

 _I just can't keep waiting any longer._

He hated being able to do _nothing._

"We're here?"

Alan moved forward until his chin was almost connecting with Virgil's shoulder bone. It was a very funny sight, but his motivation was the same. It made him want to laugh, but the sound didn't rise willingly from his throat, "This is the place?"

He took a glance for himself and he had to agree, it was incredibly run down, nonetheless it was a landing strip long and wide enough for Virgil's beloved beast and right now he'd take it. It didn't have to be the best, it just had to be a landing strip. So this, poor and old as it was, would suffice.

"Yes, this is it."

He didn't think Virgil had really needed to affirm that now, still the words filled him with new vitality, and he suddenly wondered whether this would be such a disastrous mission after all. Things just needed to keep looking up like this.

"Well, take us on down, Virge." He knew his direct elder wasn't too keen on the name, yet he couldn't stop himself from using it now. It was just another silly thing he'd taken too, a touch of his humour and using it made him feel a tad more akin to himself. The slight drop in their flight pattern made him smile for the first time since they'd left for this dreaded site and the comm flashing almost simultaneously made him delighted. Virgil's fingers moved instantly to answer it for which he was glad, because he desperately wanted to know whatever it was they needed to.

"Thunderbird Five, to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, I thought you might like an equipment update."

He definitely wanted to know that, and he was glad thar John was always on the ball with things like this. They didn't have a moment to waste; as soon as they hit the ground, they needed to be running, like the old saying went.

 _Thanks for that one, dad._

There were far too many terrible lines stuck in his head thanks to that man. Though he wouldn't change that for the world.

"I'd love one, John. We're just about to land. I'll send Alan and Gordon to get it all ready."

As soon as he'd put the two pieces of information together, he was already unbuckling his figure from the seat, swerving around to fall in step with Alan as they both moved at speed to ready whatever they required. He kept an ear open to listen to John's words, which filtered loud and clear through Thunderbird Two's excellent sound system.

"You're going to want your heavy lifting gear."

 _Please don't use the name!_

Whenever they were on a rescue together and said equipment was needed, there usually had to be a challenge over the name of said tools. He was still trying to think of the right name for them without much luck. He supposed they all knew it wasn't the right time for said game to be participated in. He already began to make a call of his own, reaching for the selection database, fingers ready to flick over to wherever necessary. He popped his head back around to listen in closer, Alan still in Two's main deck.

"FAB, I'll suit up as soon as Two is on the ground."

"Get Gordon and Alan to configure a pod. You're going to want as much cutting and heavy lifting gear as you can get."

He didn't want Virgil to have to rely anything, so he called out, "On it already, brother."

He ducked back into the cargo hold, Alan following with a bright wave, stopping at his side as he selected the pods. "He's not going to notice _that._ "

"What?"

"You. Waving. He's busy."

"I think he noticed." He shrugged. It didn't really matter after all, so long as Alan could stay bright and chirpy for as long as possible – he personally found it made rescues easier. Besides, the longer the younger stayed like it, the more he felt his own wit returning, which definitely wasn't bad.

John's voice still filtered through to them, and he made sure to grab everything he heard mentioned straight away.

"You'd be best to take multiple first aid kits, as many as you can carry just to be certain. I don't know how willing the ambulance crews are going to be to get inside the train. Currently they're leaving it to the police and fire services, but maybe when there's inside access they'll join."

 _Damn local services._ They were never quite good enough for some reason or other, never willing enough to put in a hand once the legendary IR showed up.

"Alan, pack the first aid kits into the pod."

"How many?" His fellow blonde queried, paused in a half dive to dash away. He had a valid point too. John had simply said as many as they could carry, yet he didn't know exactly what numerical value that converted to. He thought for a moment before shaking his head, selecting the second pod's features.

"Just as many as you can fit inside each pod. Ten maybe?"

"Ok." And with that Alan was off on his task, busy loading up the already completed pod. He waited for his to finish in order to give the younger a hand, but until then he allowed his mind to note their descent. It was occurring quite quickly now, the smooth motion though the air, the downward spill of air pulling them closer and closer to the ground below. It was actually rather reassuring, at least for him, the brother of the Earth and Sea over Space and Skies.

 _We're on our way, Scott._

"How are you doing back there?"

He called back instantly, passing onto Virgil the knowledge he couldn't be privy to through vision, "Fine. Assembling the pods now."

"Ok, beginning descent."

"FAB!" He was glad that he and Alan had managed to answer together again. It was just another sign that they were both picking their game back up. He was at least able to keep a smile on his face – however inappropriate he knew it seemed given the situation – for longer now, which filled him with joy. Ironic, yes he knew.

It shouldn't take them too long to head back over the terrain in the pods, and if John guided them, he was sure they could make it before the dark's cover fell entirely. It was hard to notice exactly how dark it had become from inside the belly of the beast, lit up endless series of bulbs and strip lighting required to illuminate the console, cabin and cargo hold. He didn't want to change a thing about it, but he knew that the effect of heading outside was going to be affected by it. He could only hope his eyes would adjust to the change of light to dark as quickly as they did for air to water.

He wished they could have beaten the dark entirely, but their torches and the lights of the pods would have to suffice. Whilst he thought about it though, he reached out and grabbed a few spare torches, just in case. He, Alan and Scott didn't have the luxury Virgil did of a shouldered LED Spotlight (with an extra-long-life battery thanks to Brains engineering), and had to rely on the old small bulb and connector system. Whilst they all carried one as standard, he wasn't sure one was going to be enough, and even if the light it cast was good enough, that would make it very quick to run out.

It was a pity. Living so close they could practically be neighbours with the continent, he knew the rough patterns of darkness which fell here based on what he knew from home, and they certainly weren't going to lean in their favour.

On that note, he grabbed a couple more torches ahead of making his way to the second completed pod. If Virgil was taking his lifting gear, then they wouldn't need a third. Alan was chucking first aid kits into the back of his now with gusto. It made him glad that Brains insisted on Two being overstocked with the little green things, just in case of larger scaled rescues with injuries. Still, he doubted what they would be able to do with the small kits, other than wrap up a few scrapes, support a couple of bones, and that was only for the living. He knew there was naught they could do for the dead, but with that level of basic medicine, there was no way they'd be able to do much for the _dying._ He wondered whether John could work out for certain if the medics there would cooperate.

Virgil was still talking, the tones of his voice reaching the hold, though not the words. He didn't think it was to John anymore, which meant an update from Scott could be possible soon. Though then again, he wondered if he'd even want to know if it stood the risk of upsetting his mood.

He signalled across to Alan as he took the last few green packs from his little brother and stuffed them into the back of his pod. Climbing in, he watched Alan do the same, running the brief system checks to be certain. They couldn't afford to have a single fault show up. It would doom them for sure.

"Gordon, Alan," The call momentarily knocked him from his thoughts, leaving him completely off guard. He could only hope the youngest had missed the way he jumped at the new voice entering the conversation. "How are we doing with the pods?"

"Ready to go." He called back, though he noted he was already beginning to feel a little tired, which he was sure was wavering the confidence he was gaining in his re-building natural ways. It spoke volumes for exactly what this mission was going to be like, not just the physical toll, but the mental one.

"FAB, I'm going to suit up. I'll join you outside."

"FAB." It was another joint response, but he left little tie to acknowledge it, signalling to Alan once again before steering his pod out the open ramp. Alan followed momentarily, a slight distance back. He glanced around to see Virgil's shadow emerging and pulled to a halt at the bottom of the ramp, wincing. Really? The ground just had to be gritty, didn't it? It would serve for a very horrible sound as they travelled. Still, he couldn't wait to get going, to pick up the pace and hurry to Scott's side, to do what they could to aid the… injured. It wasn't the right word, but it was the best he had present at the front of his mind, at least which he could think of that sounded semi-hopeful still.

By the time Virgil headed out into the black to join them, he was glad to see the _'Jaws of Life'_ for once, even with their poor name.

"Are we going?" He was tapping his foot against the controls, desperate to head out. It was petulant really, but right now it was serving as his outlet, for so much anger which he didn't want to direct at his brothers. A motivation.

"Yes, Gordon. Move out." _At long last_. He steered his pod around, Alan instantly following, and from the sound of it, Virgil too at quite a pace. It was the only viable option really, with how little time they had left on the scale. Keep going, keep going, _keep moving._ Eventually, something had to go their way. They just had to keep going. It had to be able to work out at some point.

 _It just has too._

He wasn't sure what he'd do if it didn't. What any of them would do…

It didn't bare thinking about. He tried to calm his anticipation by gripping the steering column hader, until his knuckles were almost turning white. It was hardly the most comfortable of journeys, the hard terrain beneath them and the dark surrounding them making it a difficult combination to navigate. He'd chose water any day with ease.

He tried to keep pace with Alan, attempted to make sure that they were keeping up pace with each other. The last thing he wanted was to lose sight of the matching head lamps on the pod, because whenever he looked back now, Virgil wasn't in sight. He knew that made sense, considering they were in the pods and he was on foot, for the different speeds they could push too varied greatly, and the encroaching darkness was quickly cutting out and everything and anything which didn't beam brightly through it. Keeping Alan in his eyeline just made him feel better about having three brothers out of it.

He knew he was the second youngest, that he wasn't 'supposed' to worry about his older brothers, because that was _'their job'_. He knew using that logic, he should only worry about Alan, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure any of them could avoid worrying about each other, for that was just the way they were, always had been and likely always would be. Even more so since… Well, _that_ didn't bare thinking about either.

 _We'll get him one day._

The next time he saw that man, he wanted to be the one to snap his neck. And that memory wouldn't haunt him. Not half as much as some of the others stacked up inside his brain. Not half as much as he truly believed this event might. He was already preparing a neat little space for it.

"Gordon, Alan, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear." Alan announced.

"What is it, Thunderbird Five?" He answered, waiting for John to give them the reason for the call. He was desperately hoping for some good news.

"An update on your coordinates."

"FAB." Once again, their answer came together and he was sure John would be rolling his eyes. Even though it was a small thing, it increasingly made him feel more like Gordon, like the 'Terrible Two' of the family again.

"Go ahead, big brother." He added, making himself ready to listen to detail like he never usually did. They couldn't afford to waste time here, to miss something and go the wrong way. He was always the serious version of himself on rescues, but this one was a cut above the rest, requiring a whole new level he wasn't sure he'd ever utilised.

"Well, you need to keep straight. Head towards the GDF planes. You'll see Thunderbird One's tail engines in just over a mile. When you do turn right and pull up beside the tracks.

"FAB John." Alan answered, his voice gradually becoming merrier and that, Gordon knew to appreciate when faced with situations like this.

"Speaking of them, what's happening with the GDF, John?"

"They're supposed to be moving, so I wouldn't jump you see them flying towards you."

"Like now then." Alan voiced, and he pulled his gaze back up to the sky, watching as two of the carriers shot away overhead.

"Where abouts are they going?"

"The same place I sent you."

"G _rea_ t." He exaggerated his words as he glanced back to their still distant heading, blinking to make sure he wasn't seeing things, or that he hadn't miscounted. "What about the other one?"

John sighed, his voice dropping a tone into warning territory, and his following words made it clear that the subject should be avoided. The GDF had obviously managed to wind up the calmest of all the Tracy's, so that wasn't going to bode well for them in the long run. He was instantly sure that Colonel Casey couldn't be involved, since everything was seemingly far too disorganised for her orders – he garnered that much, if he was mining John's vocal qualities right, "Don't even mention it, Gordon."

He took his voice up a notch to balance out the counter and willingly let the subject drop, "FAB."

John was never slow to return to the business at hand anyway, seeming far happier at talking to his brothers, and about them. He was more than happy to listen and talk back as well; he didn't think he could stand silence _and_ darkness right about now. But then – whatever protests he always made against it, including the scientific ones he didn't quite process – he was sure John had always been a mindreader.

"Virgil's moving as quickly as he can, but he estimates double your time." That… wasn't brilliant, but he supposed it would have to do. The middle child was on foot after all, so he couldn't afford to be too hard on him. "And because I know you'll only ask otherwise, Scott's managed to get the driver out and find a way into the first carriage."

"Ok, well we hope to join the hero soon. You know, take some of that limelight." He heard Alan snigger, his humour beginning to return in floods through his veins and that was good enough for him. He was clearly getting back on point if he could be the cause of his only younger brother's (restrained) laughter.

"Of course you do." Even John sounded a degree amused, though ever the professional, something he quickly returned to, "I have a suggestion for when you get there."

 _Predictable._ No really, he should have expected it to follow at some point, considering how logical the red-head always was, how quick he always was to establish a secure plan for them so they didn't have to waste time or (hopefully anyhow) deal with unexpected risks. Of course, it happened occasionally, but usually ideas which came from John were secure and stable, worked effectively and held brilliant coordination. He wasn't going to say no to having a plan from their older brother.

"Let's hear it."

"I suggest you break off and follow the scheme Scott managed to get roughly set up," He knew there was clearly a large section of conversation they were missing out on, and that 'roughly' wasn't a very good term. However, he also knew that John wouldn't suggest they continue on that road if he wasn't aware of the plan filling out its intentions and avoiding the course of a sinking ship. No, he was sure it must have turned around since its start and John would be the person to know that. _John knows everything_ , after all. "Alan, head over to Scott. Gordon, meet up with the local fire and police services – they're working their way from the back of the train. Wait for Virgil and work down your end to meet Scott and Alan in the middle. Virgil should be able to use his lifting gear to help get the tops of the carriages and give you access, and if you work from either side, you should be able to get most people out quickly."

He could guess what that last sentence was meant to indicate. John had clearly been able to work out where their 'best chances' – so to speak – lay. He just had to trust that the elder had got it right, that he'd seen something they couldn't at brief face value, found something which indicated exactly _why_ that procedure should be taken.

"You've been thinking about that one, Johnny." He smiled around every single word, briefly glancing his eyes around for any sign of Thunderbird One, acutely aware that he'd _stopped_ looking.

He didn't have to wait so much as a beat for the answer, "Of course I have, it's my job, and _don't_ call me Johnny."

Yep, he was definitely on his way back to his peak of brilliance. He felt the smile spread actos his face at that; the simple fact that he'd managed to reuse his nicknames for both of his older brothers in near succession. Still, as he was coming back into his peak, and they had their heading, he just couldn't resist pushing one further… "Add a smile to that and you've got a deal."

John sounded ruffled and affronted at the comment, declaring, "You can't know if I was smiling or not."

"I can tell by the sound of your voice." He chuckled as John's disbelief travelled in the silence and he continued, sure that his emotions were travelling across perfectly. "Like me, I smile all the time."

It was quite true and John's word were completely flat as he gave answer to that, "I hope you're not smiling now."

He sighed at John's truth and decided to please the elder by changing his phrasing. Alan seemed to be finding this very amusing from his pod if the crackles over the well-working radio were anything to go by. "Ok, _most_ of the time. Happy?"

"Whatever you say, Gordon." That was always the best answer John could give, and he'd give it often if they were in a high-tension situation. It was another answer which was only believable when it came from the red-head, because Scott and Virgil were never quite capable at fully letting it be when the dust settled. He wondered whether it was the youngest attempts at badly concealed laughing, or his quietness which made the elder turn his questioning to him, "Alan, are you alright?"

"Fine John." The answer in itself said it all as it was obvious Alan was struggling to talk through his laughter without completely breaking into it, and he knew that was good considering the stress which was to follow.

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about him. Laughter's one of the only things which can't kill."

"Well, there would be an argument for that, but time and place." It did amuse him, just how easily John could mention something and then in a situation like this, drop it for later. And oh, he was sure there would be a _later._

 _You had to do it_ again _, didn't you?_

He really needed to learn about opening his mouth. Or maybe it was better if he learnt to stop using it entirely. He couldn't ever go far wrong if he said nothing at all. At least, that's what he was being driven towards believing considering his past record, not to mention the one he'd established in a mere day. Once more and he'd have a full set of three, _brilliant!_

"How far away are we?" Alan queried and he suddenly became aware just how good a question that was, one which he would have completely overlooked without the younger's input. John took a moment before delivering them the answer.

"About a quarter mile. You should see Thunderbird One soon. Remember, head right, stop before the tracks. I'm gonna' try and update Scott."

"FAB." Gosh, they were on it all of a sudden; John just blew the air out of his lips.

"Are you two going to manage that all evening?"

He pursed his lips, "Probably."

"Maybe."

John shook his head before promptly closing their link. He smiled anew at the simple things.

Considering the simple, he wondered whether he could get Alan to brighten up a little more. It would be a risky tactic he was sure, and not the ideal one for the situation, but if it served its purpose he'd take it. It was after all, just a little tradition of theirs whenever they took the pods out together, just a little bet on the situation. Usually they were on small, trivial things, but occasionally they'd place odds on the larger. For him, it had truthfully developed as a coping mechanism and since it seemed to have work to at least keep Alan going on the longer and more intensive rescues. He'd considering dropping it at one point – because really, was it right? – but a conversation with his older brothers had made him realise they all had coping mechanisms they didn't necessarily share, so why should he then eliminate one of his?

 _What was that other old saying of Dad's?_ If it's not broken, don't fix it. So, as he saw it, there you had it – the point in not changing a pattern which worked.

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?" He knew they were travelling close due to the deepening blanket of darkness (one which didn't miss a stitch), but it was at times like this when he noticed just how good the pods radio systems were too. The clarity was incredible, like travelling in the same unit.

"What bet are we putting on Scott?"

"You really want a bet, even in this situation?"

"Yeah. Keep the sparks alive." He gave it a beat, a moment for Alan to consider the options likely rolling around his mind. He knew wat the outcome would be. Alan in high stress situations was too easy for him to read. Ok, he couldn't exactly see his blonde counterparts body language at the moment – which would have been a huge help – but he had learned to make do with voice. They were brother's after all; little to nothing could stay hidden from them for long, especially since they were five strong, for someone was always bound to wind up knowing something. "So what do you say?"

"What's the full bet?" He sounded as curious as he could imagine a cat would: so far, so good. If he could keep Alan focused, away from the subject of what was coming up ahead, then everything might just stand a (likely minute) chance at still being _ok_ (yes, in a very loose sense of the word).

It was a good question though. Something too small wouldn't keep the youngest attention for long enough. Something too big could just be dangerous explosion territory. He needed the middle ground. And he had a feeling he knew where to find that within the scope of their hero. Alan hid it well, because he worshipped all of his brothers, but since Scott had taken a leading hand over International Rescue, the kid had pretty much hero-worshipped him. It was the shape of some of their usual bets, but that was because it was an easy design to shift and change, and right now he wasn't able to be very imaginative, so he was most glad of it. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought of the best phrasing. Alan seemed to be waiting expectantly. In the end he came up with it, the simple, easiest and quickest of proposals.

"The closest to the number of people he's rescued from the wreck or assisted within it."

"Ok." Alan agreed, but his apprehension was clear, not for betting on their brother's success, but for what had to follow with a winning situation. I was always just to brighten things up that they added a losing side. The last time Alan had lost, he found himself thrown into the pool, because an agreement was an agreement.

"And…" Usually he was able to think up the best of scenarios for a losing challenge, any great number of things, even going so far as to enter the dangerous territory of stealing Scott's hair products. But now, his brain seemed dead to the humorous concoctions he'd usually manage to create. He hated to say it, yet for once he had nothing, and it hurt him to declare that. "I can't think of the loosing challenge."

Alan scoffed over the radio waves, "You expect me to bet on something in the dark?"

"Of course I do." He smiled this time, because his basic humour was still well alive and kicking now, fully renewed on that instinctual level, even if not on the one he had to mull over. "Have you seen the sky?"

" _Fun_ ny, Gordon."

He could only smile. Alan would definitely see it as a laughing matter later, and he personally thought it was quite a good one, especially when his natural abilities had previously been dampened. He shrugged, despite knowing it wouldn't be seen.

"What can I say? It's a talent." He truly believed that, considering no one else in the family had ever matched his humour. John never would, considering it was a foreign concept to him; Scott had tried, but he was sure that protective instinct which came with being the eldest always held him back; Virgil didn't do half bad really, but then he could throw it out the window at times (like now) when it held no use to him; Alan had to come the closest, but then that was likely aided by being the youngest, and having grown up with _him_ for an older brother. Still, he liked who he was. As dangerous as this job was too, he wouldn't change it for the world. _Never. None of it._ Well, maybe just the _one_ detail. He shook his head in a vague attempt to clear it. "So? Your bet?"

"Hmm…" Alan seemed to take a moment to think here, a move which was wise. He should probably begin to do the same. He was slightly shocked by the sudden outburst, which still nearly blew his ears off even though they weren't remotely close enough. That just told you what power the kids lungs had. Really, he'd always said it was a pity Alan went for space over swimming. "One!"

His brows furrowed as a natural response, one which he didn't even have to consider. Alan never bet low scores on any of his brothers – something which often cost him the bet, because he really did seem to believe they were inhuman – however he usually betted a lot higher on Scott by rule. This had to be a first, a complete outlier.

"One? Really, I thought you had more faith in him than that." He was sure his shock had carried over into his tone, but the youngest was quick to sigh, his voice light and bouncy. Oh… _how did you not notice that one?_ It was the shock. He was going to blame that oversight on his part on the shock.

"No, I mean Thunderbird One!" He took a look to his right, certain Alan would be pointing and waving and making a large deal out of it, which… yeah, fair enough, it was a big deal in this situation.

"Oh…" He was correct too he found, as he brought his pod to a halt. Thunderbird One's tail engines loomed on the other side of the ridge, warm and welcoming despite their silver appearing cold and cool. _Well… that's a turn up for the books._ Something finally seemed to be going good. He glanced around, but Virgil wasn't even remotely in sight, even though that had been what he'd expected, it still made his heart drop a note. They weren't all together quite yet. But soon, he was sure they would be. He smiled, brighter than he had for this entire trip and began to manoeuvre his pod once more, aware Alan would follow. "Let's turn right."

"FAB."

Being on the move again was like surfing a new, fresh wave getting ready to break against the shoreline. It was exhilarating, and his courage was returning. They could do this. They stood every chance. Ok, they might not save everyone, but so long as they could save someone then they were still doing their job properly.

They'd be able to see Scott soon, to lend him some helpful hands. He could only hope that they weren't too late. That there just wasn't too much left to be done. They'd stopped one crash, however they couldn't stop this one, thus there was every chance they couldn't save everyone. It upset him beyond belief, it made him worry that they just wouldn't be able to live up to what their name had become. That they wouldn't be able to help the people who needed them the upmost in their one time of desperate need.

They'd be out of the pods soon, on the ground attempting to do what they do best.

The problem (as he saw it) was, that he didn't have as much ground experience as some of his brother, preferring to be beneath the waves. He was rubbish with first aid, most of it just tending to go over his head, to confuse him until there was nothing he could do. The problem was, that he was _rubbish_ when it came to Earth legs, that he didn't cope well with working atop the ground as opposed to beneath it. Beneath it, he hardly panicked as much as he did above it. He truly believed he was safe beneath the sea; rarely had he ever believed that for the earth.

And he _knew_ that was _stupid_.

He knew that he joked about it with John and space, but really, he shouldn't. Because it was the _same_ thing: John was always destined to feel safer in space than on ground-zero, and he the sea as opposed to the earth.

No, he feared that _he_ was going to be utterly useless, let the side down and prove himself to be a failure at something so far from his water filled comfort zone. He worried he wouldn't be able to help his brothers, would be no support at all. That maybe, he should have stayed with Thunderbird Two like some kind of guard dog, that maybe he should even have swapped with John. Ok, the last one was a bit drastic, but the closer they came, the more his nerve began to take over.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been _this_ nervous on a rescue before.

After all, they were his life. Practically every day they disturbed his sleep, or quiet time, or dinner, or swimming, or just _his_ day. And practically every day he went out to aid someone without even thinking about it anymore. He'd thought when The Mechanic destroyed Thunderbird Four, because he had to if he was going to survive, but that had to be the first time in a long time. Now, he was thinking again, and making it the first time in a while, a complete break in his pattern of never consulting his head. John was their mind when they were out here, Scott their orderer, Virgil their calm, Alan their energy, he… _he_ was the loose link, the one which fitted when he could focus and was useless whenever he couldn't. If he could focus, he was the hidden strength, the thing which kept them all pushing, when he couldn't, well, he believed himself to be little more than a hazard.

 _Snap out of it Gordon! Or you really will be useless._

He could only image how much of an issue that would cause. He couldn't afford to be a dead weight in the middle of something like _this._

His apprehension only grew as they approached, but also his relief. Soon they'd be out of the pods and he'd at least be able to see Alan, to hopefully find and see Scott, and then Virgil too. That was the best he could hope for at the moment, and oh he hoped.

They pulled the pods up as close to Thunderbird one as they could get, squishing the pods in beneath its main body, trying not to take out the landing structs as they did so.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd expected _anything_ since the space was just too broad. This was definitely… he wasn't even sure what it was.

 _A mess._

That was the first thing which came to mind.

He stepped out from beneath Thunderbird One's shadow into the dark's cloak and still felt as though the sun was casting a large shadow on him, a rain cloud building up for a thunderstorm looming above his head.

This was a nightmare. A pure idea of a nightmare.

The train was… well now he caught full sight of it, he could see the extent to which it had tumbled and crumpled and shattered and… _surely they'll be dead?_

He wasn't sure how Scott could even have managed to get himself into that wreck, let alone stay in it, let alone not choke up at the sight of it. He felt one hundred percent sick. If Alan wasn't at his side, he believed he just might have been.

It felt finite, seeing it before his own eyes, seeing it on the level.

He took steady, careful steps forth, as though the ground beneath him was set to crack if he didn't.

"Woah…" Alan breathed and there was no bone in his body which could disagree.

"What are we meant to rescue from that?" He questioned, knowing it would become rhetorical. He just didn't see the way forward from here. He continued to walk towards where the hustle and bustle was located, sure that Alan was walking in his step from the echoes of footsteps distinctly not his. It was unusual to walk into a field of police cars, fire engines and ambulances, especially without Thunderbird Two in their near sight. The GDF carrier still hovering above was a big distraction and he felt as though they were constantly waiting for fire to rain down. People looked at them of course, but none made any move to halt their journey as clearly the uniforms spoke volumes. They let them pass with a wide berth, but still looked as though they wished to ask.

He had things he wanted to ask too, because gazing on at _all this_ he was suddenly clueless. _Clueless_ and _breathless_.

"John? We're here. Where next?"


	5. V: Five

So, long absence I know! I've explained it better in 'Dreams of an Island', but basically I went travelling again and I didn't have much time for writing! But I'm going to try and (slowly and steadily) make up for it! This is the next chapter of 'Crash Focus' and if you've worked out my pattern then you'll know who this chapter is all about.

* * *

It was just one of those things, the bet, a trivial thing to pass the time. That was what Gordon had started it out as, and it's what it still was. He remembered clearly when it had first come into play, the whole thing his direct older brother's attempt to keep his mind clear and focussed, happier and freer, lighter and hopeful. He'd appreciated it then. He wasn't prepared for his fellow blonde to throw it towards him now, and as apprehensive as he was to begin with, he appreciated it _now_ too.

It was as Gordon said; k _eep the sparks alive._

Still, it wasn't to say he held no apprehension towards it still whatsoever… Gordon was never forthcoming with the 'other' outcomes, for lack of better words.

"What's the full bet?" He was being slightly cautious. It was a waiting reaction considering what they were heading towards and something he couldn't dispel with ease. It was, in all fairness, something he'd learnt to hold around the Aquanaut, in case of just in cases. The objective on the other hand, he was sure was being met. He knew exactly where they were going, yet still the pressure seemed to be fading ever so slightly when faced with what seemed like normal routine: the Terrible Two joking away.

Gordon's answer took a moment, but he found himself hanging on it, like you did an important call. He needed to know now it had been mentioned. "The closest to the number of people he's rescued from the wreck or assisted within it."

It was a wide area of results, one he was sure wouldn't be too high yet, but still he was tempted, reeled in like fishes on Gordon's old set of fishing wires (the one's he'd given up using after… well, he could only call it 'The Unthinkable').

"Ok." He kept some of his apprehension rolling over in his tone though, wary that still all the details weren't in his palm. He'd feel a lot safer when he had every bit of information to make a definitive choice on. That was another thing he'd learnt – it wasn't wise to shadow bet with Gordon, of all the people.

"And…" Gordon's vowel continued to roll over before the consonants appeared and after that, the slight pause was indicative of enough, of every piece of his older brother's struggle. It honestly made him fear what would roll from the swimmer's tongue. "I can't think of the loosing challenge."

He couldn't help scoffing at that, even though he knew it might cost him later. The Fish really had lost it if he thought he'd go for that like a fool, "You expect me to bet on something in the dark?"

"Of course I do. Have you seen the sky?"

It could have been a good one, on anyone else, in any other situation. Oppositely, this was a really serious bet, he needed the details. And yes, it was dark, something which he was trying to ignore right now. He loved it to be dark, just like John, yet this wasn't the sort of darkness he loved. He loved the dark when you had time to admire the stars, not when you were going to have to try and save lives.

" _Fun_ ny, Gordon." Even as he said it, he was expecting exactly what his brother would throw back at him. It seemed he'd recovered his humour – if ever he'd lost it - and that was exactly the response he received. _Predictable Gordon, as ever._

"What can I say? It's a talent." He had no doubt that his brother believed that to the full either. Honestly though, humour probably was his forte, and there was nothing he could say to take that away from the eldest blonde of their family. It wasn't like any of them were able to give him a real run for his money, though if ever he and Virgil had to come the closest. Still, Gordon had inherited all of it from somewhere and seemed happy to keep the skill to himself. "So? Your bet?"

"Hmm…" He decided he'd take a moment to think on it seriously. Considering he had no idea what the other half of the bet entailed, he didn't want to do his usual throughout of answers, just in case it didn't meet the mark. He had to think carefully on this one, as carefully as John thought through their plans and Scott their orders. He needed to put his sensible Alan Tracy hat on, _not_ the crazy one. It was too big an unfounded risk to take. He was thinking of going for five, _five_ was always a good number for them. Somehow lucky, destined to fit with who they were. He'd forgotten that he'd actually meant to be keeping an eye peeled for something.

The points came into view so suddenly he was sure he was hallucinating – and had they been crossing a dessert, he would have been certain of it. However, this time he took another look, glancing his eyes further for details. Blue, silver, metallic, wings – Thunderbird One.

Suddenly the power seemed to come into his lungs, the answer a straight of the bat expulsion of text, one which didn't even consciously pass through his mind: it came straight from his heart.

"One!"

"One?" Gordon sounded completely astounded. Oh, the bet. He was expecting an answer to the bet… "Really, I thought you had more faith in him than that."

He sighed, speaking once more, knowing his voice had retaken its light, bouncy vibes which were usually carried into this everyday life. He hoped that in itself might signal something to Gordon. "No, I mean Thunderbird One!"

He waved his hand, pointing and rushing to try and get Gordon to look (he might have realised Gordon couldn't _see_ this action if he'd really taken a moment to think, but it made him feel better regardless). They were so _close_ now. It was just to their right – Thunderbird One, a previously shadowy outline, which was now becoming stronger and stronger in material vision. They'd made it. They were here. They were so close, so nearly there.

 _Not long now._

He could only hope they weren't yet too late. That something would still be able to come out of this. That they could aid Scott, one way or another.

"Oh…" Yeah, he supposed Gordon was short of words too. It was quite monumental really, finally locating their own ship. He wondered whether the task would seem just as hard and arduous on the way back, or whether the green hulk would stand out as a clearer visual. When Gordon's pod suddenly stopped, he halted his as soon as possible too. Stopping made Thunderbird One's tail engines perfectly clear. It was hard to see much now too when looking around, considering the black had enveloped everything and he could only hope Virgil would be able to find his way to join them too. Gordon suddenly began to move again, turning the angle of his pod and he instantly moved to follow. "Let's turn right."

"FAB." He was so keen he could almost have risked pushing the pod to speeds he knew it wasn't capable of. He almost worried that if they didn't get there soon, it would feel like sand was falling through their hands, with everything starting to go wrong again. If they could get to Scott… _it will all be ok, it will have to be…_ he really believed that could be true.

This part of their journey didn't seem to take anywhere near as long as the rest of it had and though he knew it was still a good few minutes, it certainly felt strangely relaxing.

The tracks began to form beneath the belly of Thunderbird One and soon the whole ship was in their view as they crossed the banks. _Finally._ It was about time after all.

 _Not long, Scott._ They were finally going to be able to _do_ something, something constructive.

It made him smile when the elder blonde nearly whacked straight into one of One's landing structs, because it was just the sort of thing they needed. It wouldn't have been funny in the slightest had it happened, but a near miss was actually quite entertaining. They halted the pods beneath Thunderbird One, knowing that was the safest spot they could choose, especially as no one should be coming near their ship.

Residing under the silver body's shadow, he felt somehow safe. It seemed like a space in which he could suddenly breath again, and leaving the pod he felt as though his legs actually had some strength. He'd expected them to be like jelly, but this was a positive notion to be taken forward. He felt stronger being _here_ , stronger knowing their number was growing. He'd caught a glimpse from Thunderbird Two, the height they had in the sky hardly enough for a true representation. He'd dreaded the whole journey what they would see up close, feared what they'd face and hated the building feeling that it might tear them apart, pull them down to Earth. He'd never really grown up thinking that was where they lived. It had never been the way of their family, every single member of it somehow becoming bigger than life. The Thunderbirds made their existence an illusion, and it was one he never imagined being broken: thus, it was the one he knew would shatter him if ever it did.

He knew he had to look though. He had to see the truth, see what he was going to be facing and see that before stepping into it. He couldn't risk walking blindfolded across to a wreckage he was supposed to be assisting with.

 _Come on Alan._

It was going to take bravery, but he set his nerves as best as he could, hoping they would just stay together long enough to get through this. Long enough for him to be of some use. He may be the youngest, but he never wanted to be the useless member of this family – something it was easy to feel as though you were all things considered.

 _Please hold it together._

Sometimes he wondered if he said something enough in his head, if it would carry true into his body. He just needed to manage this today. He needed to be helpful, not a third wheel. He held his breathe as he looked round to the site though. He was sure there was worse to come as he looked on at the metal twisted and reformed into all shapes, scratched and jagged on the edges. He suddenly felt _sick_ to his stomach, the sudden feeling washing over him, cutting every bit of previously growing strength from his bones. It was like being winded by a pole, so suddenly gone. Dissipated into nothing. As though it had never been. Maybe it really hadn't been. It had just been a momentary surge he'd hoped to hold onto for longer than he knew he was capable of.

 _Woah…_

This wasn't what he'd been expecting. Although he realises that was likely a bad term to use. What could you _'expect'_ in this situation other than a mess likely filled with death. John had been incredibly kind to them in his description. Far kinder than he would have been able to manage. Somehow, his elder space-loving brother had managed to find the alternate words to mysteriously soften the blow, when he wouldn't have even had a _clue_ as to _where to start._ He began to wonder, increasingly whether he was suited to doing what John did for a living, or in fact to what _any_ of his brothers did. His strength lay in piloting Thunderbird Three. He was no longer sure – and yes, he knew he'd rethink this later, he knew this was likely all caused by this blinking rescue appearing so tough, waring and emotionally draining – he was cut out for _anything_ else.

He reached out towards Gordon, just to make sure his closest brother was still there. He was certain that without his fellow blonde's presence, that he would already have thrown up lunch. He definitely didn't want dinner or any sort of snack when they made it home. He might even go so far as to skip breakfast.

He made sure to walk at Gordon's side, unsure if his legs would hold him up with every step he took. He stepped out from beneath Thunderbird One's shadow into the dark's cloak and still felt as though the sun was casting a large shadow on him, a rain cloud building up for a thunderstorm looming above his head.

If he was dreaming this… if he was asleep, well someone pinch him. Wake him up _now_.

He knew though, so unfortunately that he was very much awake. Typically.

He didn't even know how to describe the appearance of the train, certainly not in any coherent form. He didn't have a clue where to even bother attempting to start at. The thought of Scott _working_ in there, trying to somehow _save_ people's lives… it made him shiver as though the breeze had turned to ice. It didn't seem possible for anyone to be alive or willing have entered that wreck, and yet, that was exactly what Scott had done.

And it was what they too would do.

As he and Gordon came to a halt though, he just felt it hit him, as though the train had taken him with it on its impact path.

"Woah…" It was just a breath, words completely failing him, speech an apparent thing of the past. They didn't seem to fail Gordon, but then he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What are we meant to rescue from that?" He gave Gordon no answer. There just wasn't one he could give in response to that. He wasn't sure how long he stood there for before Gordon spoke again, but not to him. "John? We're here. Where next?"

He sounded as lost as Alan felt. That wasn't much good for them really, considering it would be ideal for them to be able to help each other. He could only hope John wasn't as lost, which the elder certainly didn't sound, however confusing his words were.

"Hold on Gordon."

 _Uh oh…_ He could almost see it coming, his fellow blonde brother already seeming to be on fire, but he could never have predicted the fall out which was to follow. He'd been imaging things on a lesser scale, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before one of them blew up, with disastrous consequences or not. It was just _bound_ to happen, but it didn't occur in the way he'd expected – or quite with the person. Then again, nothing was going to the way of expectations today, so he really shouldn't have put so a high price on the fluid things.

"Hold on?" Incredulous. That was the only word for Gordon's attitude and soon it was to become the adjective for his own. "What are we meant to ' _hold on'_ to or for, Johnny? You're _not_ seeing what _we're_ seeing, and I don't care how good your systems are. You're not going to step foot on this site today and you're not going to be _here_. You're nice and safe up there, and we're doing all the heavy and hard work down here. _Anyone_ can flick a few switches."

The irony in that wasn't lost on him; Gordon would fail at doing anything John could do up on Five. He'd not just fail, actually, he'd fail epically. Usually he would have laughed at that, but it truly didn't seem like a laughing matter. They were all going to be walking on highly strung, thin wires trailing across a wide ocean, but for Gordon's to start fraying – no, maybe snapping was a better word – so early, likely meant very stormy seas lay ahead.

He noted he should take that as an unspoken warning, and heed it.

Yet the fact remained that, even for Gordon that was harsh. John gave no answer, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard every word. He ran his tongue along the underside of his top lip, waiting for a moment to try and decide what his response should be. He didn't want to make anything worse for his brother, but it didn't feel as though he knew how to make it better. In the end, he decided it had to be Gordon's greatest weapon in most situations.

 _Because, surely that can't backfire on me too?_

He sometimes felt as though he was the problem causer, as irrational as he knew that to be. And when everything around him began to crumble, those fears were raised. It seemed nothing would be alleviated today, the cycle endlessly continuing, twisting and turning into a spiral of constant movement. He hardly knew whether it was safe to dare to breathe.

"Do you have any air left in your lungs?"

"Not much." It wasn't really adorned with anything. It was purely a sentence which left his brother's lips, probably without even passing through his brain, but then with the elder blonde, that could on occasion be a good thing.

His next words didn't really cross his brain, and with him, it doubtlessly wasn't good. He was making a very simple and known point, however considering Gordon's current wobbly foothold, it probably wasn't the wisest move to point out his errors.

"You should really-"

"Yeah, I know." Gordon's tone had completely flipped and there was no doubt in him that his elder brother knew he'd overstepped the mark, knew he needed to make an apology and just didn't want that verbalised. _You should have known, Alan._ It wasn't like they were brothers- oh no, wait, it was.

Before he could say anything though, the Aquanaut was speaking again, but not to him this time. To anyone else it would look like they were speaking to thin air.

"John, I'm sorry-"

"Save it for later, Gordon. It doesn't matter." He couldn't see his fellow blonde brother's face, yet he was certain his jaw would have dropped. That was just another simple, though complex thing he'd never 'get' about John. He'd be out for blood right now if the situation was reversed, and if it was, he and Gordon often managed to achieve that outcome, even more so if the problem was between them. John appeared over Gordon's wrist communicator's holo-systems and he sidled closer to his on-Earth brother. It always upset him to think of how far away John was, and the lack of physical touch the holo-systems could offer them. Talking was all well and good, but sometimes it wasn't enough, and John had always been his go to.

It seemed at the moment as though they were trouble's go to. But then, weren't they always?

Gordon didn't seem to take the hint though, and having John before him – in some kind of form at least – made a fire ignite all over again, "But-"

"You said you're there?"

It was finite, a clear change of topic and Gordon seemed to go with it for this once – even though displeasure and guilt would be written all across his face, and Alan knew he didn't have to see that to know it was so. He knew the blonde too well, well enough to know exactly what way his eyebrows would have raised and which usually invisible lines would have wrinkled. _It's strange really,_ he thought for a moment: high pressure situations really did do funny things to people; _except_ for John. He seemed to still be functioning just fine. Perfectly fine in fact. Just like John Tracy. He didn't feel very much like Alan Tracy right now. He was beginning to feel a bit like a nobody in fact, beginning to lose all functions which he'd required to keep his head level and his actions sound. He didn't want to be a failure, not now, not today, ideally not ever. They all knew how dangerous this could become. It would only ever take one thing to tip the balance of the scales out of their favour. Right now, that was something they just couldn't afford.

He left the conversational side of things to Gordon, but he smiled at John, who smiled lightly back. He didn't think he had much in the way of a voice to utilise at the moment, so he didn't even dare try. He wondered if this was communicated to John or if the red head just assumed he had naught to say. He imagined at John would have garnered his reasons; the communications expert excelled in the field of knowledge that was his brothers, even if not the world.

"Yeah. No clue where to start."

The comment brought him back and he blinked in an attempt to clear his blurring vision. The stress was already taking its toll on him, and he'd barely _done anything._

 _Pull yourself together, Alan!_

John didn't seem to need any such encouragement to do just that as his voice came clear over the airwaves, like crystal and chocolate, a taste of home in a place which couldn't be less like it, a situation which couldn't be more out of place for their idyllic island. Oh, how much he wished they could just go home right now, bring John back down and continue as though nothing had occurred. Yet, here they were. This is their job. It's what they just have to get on and do. He'd have to just pluck up the courage to get on with the job. _Just like Scott, just like John._ He was part of International Rescue too; if they could do it, surely he could. Though, if even Gordon was struggling to access his mind… It worried him.

"The plan Gordon."

"The plan?" He asked, curious, unsure they'd ever created one. He began to wonder just how much he retreated into his head whilst they were travelling here in the pods, because he knew he'd tuned into a conversation of some sort, even if he didn't know the specific details to hand. It didn't seem to clear any mist in his fellow blonde's mind either, as the aquanaut simply screwed his face up.

"You've been thinking about that one." John answered, calmly, almost assuredly. It was like he knew it would be enough, the right answer at the right time. Whilst it seemed like a complete riddle to him, it succeeded in jolting something awake within Gordon.

"Oh, right… yeah."

There was a slight wobble to his tone, and for a moment he could only watch Gordon carefully, wondering what the elder would have to say – or if he'd be able to say anything at all. By the silence, it seemed John was listening intently for the same thing. After a minute, he wondered if his troublesome counterpart was going to be able to handle speech. Since it was coming close to the wire, he was massively tempted to speak, to encourage and push, but decided that as long as John remained silent, he would too. It probably was only a matter of time before the wave hit and they'd have their answer released and revealed. Finally, seconds that felt like minutes later, hit it did.

"Alan, join Scott. I'll try and get in with this lot," He made some vague wave towards the personal in multiple local uniforms, "Try to find out what I can, and wait for Virgil."

With it spoken, it was as though a switch was flicked. _Yeah_ , they had mentioned something along those lines during the journey. It was coming back to him now that a primary point had been so clearly refreshed. He was just glad _he_ was the one who got to join Scott, however that tied in with the worry that he _had_ to make himself useful _at any cost._

He pondered whether the aquanaut was feeling the same pressure.

It was almost impossible to feel though with what was to come, small and simple as it was, "Good plan Gordon."

 _Funny,_ he thought, and it truly sounded it – to hear his second eldest brother praise the younger for an idea which they all knew had never originated from Gordon's brain. After all, the swimmer's brain didn't do plans or orders very well at all. What he did best was eat, sleep, swim, rescue, argue, watch TV, and be on the receiving end of those orders. _Hmm…_ he was actually quite proud of that description. It was wonderfully true with regards to his brother, even if it was the concise version. It was still precise. Maybe he hadn't yet lost it all down the drain just yet; he might just have something left to give after all.

Gordon shrugged. Alan supposed it was a meaningless action in theory, but then again, it passed the time, it made you feel like you were at least doing something. Maybe it wasn't even a conscious thing. Heck, there were so many things he could be doing right now which he wasn't aware of.

"Well, it was yours. I've just hijacked it." You could always count on the family's fish to make you laugh. He'd been thinking it, and of course he knew Gordon knew _it_ , but having him say it was a different matter entirely. Usually, achieving that was like prising a diamond back through the fourth Tracy brother's lips. It seemed they finally found the situation which won out against such strong genetic stubbornness. Not that he would ever wish them to face this again, even if it would win him the world from Gordon. He'd rather have nothing.

"That's fine." He was sure he heard someone else's voice begin to protest, but he didn't bother to ask, just in case he was beginning to hear things. It didn't bother John, which was the most telling thing.

 _No need to worry, Alan._ It felt as though everyone of his senses had been hypersensitised and were now on permanent alert. It was incredibly disconcerting and he couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt like this, even on the more drastic and dangerous rescues he'd been a part of, even when the island was invaded by their enemy, even when they _lost_ Dad. It was the strangest of feelings, one he didn't quite know where to direct within his internal emotional system, everything which bypassed his brain feeling more complex then when it originated from impulse. Why was life so problematic and perplexing sometimes? It was something he didn't think he'd ever come close to understanding, if it was even possible to do so.

Once again, it was John continuing to speak which broke him from a trance of thought. He knew he'd have to start trying to pinch himself if this pattern of retreating into his head continued.

"I think you should get moving. Gordon, hold fire and keep an eye out for Virgil whilst I direct Alan to Scott. Once I know he's on track, I'll give you some information about the people you'll be working with."

He nodded, though it didn't seem relevant too, considering John hadn't addressed him with anything requiring an answer, nor directly spoken to him. Gordon's acknowledgement was hardly soft and subtle.

"I hope they know how to do their job."

He had to chuckle anew. It was a grumble which really translated to, _'I hope they'll listen to us, because_ we _know how to do this job'_.

Seriously, it was right though. International Rescue were the leading experts in their field (recognised by _most,_ he wasn't going to go so far as to say _all_ just yet), and those who didn't deal with these things on a daily basis or had become complacent since IR started operating, just weren't as well equipped to handle these events. He'd seen people tend to panic, or end up ill, or start fighting… he wasn't going to say it was ridiculous, because the likelihood was, for people who didn't specialise in this area, there was just too much to handle. Even so, they couldn't afford for that to happen today of all days, with _this_ rescue of all rescues.

So, he supposed they'd need to take a firm hand on that quickly – or that Gordon and Virgil would in order to sort out as much as possible. And he and Scott… he had no clue really, so he supposed they'd just have to keep moving and doing whatever they could do. It meant he should probably _do_ something, rather than just standing looking over the elder's shoulder like a numpty.

Because he still wasn't going to allow his eyes to stray to _that_ wreckage.

Well, John had said _'get moving'_ and it was on that premise that he decided to make a break for it. It was quite clear to him that Gordon wasn't going to move anytime soon, his feet and knees looking locked into position. He wasn't even sure a crowd barrelling into the blonde right now would knock him over. He understood this perfectly though, because at the same time, he didn't really want to leave Gordon. It didn't matter that he knew Scott would be waiting for him on the other side, it was beside the point that Virgil would be arriving at – hopefully – any moment to join his brother: it was as simple as instinct. Neither of them really wanted to part from the other, in case the safety barrier broke.

Here, beneath Thunderbird One, they could stay safe from harm and clear out of the way.

But they were International Rescue, they couldn't have that privilege and whilst people needed them, it was only right that they shouldn't.

He stepped back towards his pod and reached in for the first aid kits, grabbing about ten and stuffing them into his arms. It wouldn't be enough, and he'd have to come back for most of them if they needed more, but they'd have to find the way to make do.

He smiled (yes, he knew, not a _good_ place to be smiling, but what could he say? It was a coping mechanism), waving as he started to walk off, calling over his shoulder – because that made it easier to depart than face to face conversation, which would no doubt keep him held exactly as he was. It would make it easier for his elder brother too considering it would take the decision from his shoulder and the power from his hands. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

Sometimes – he'd learnt this young, younger than he would have liked in hindsight – that was the way of the world.

"Later Gordon." He didn't quite catch his brother's reply, but the floating word of bet travelled far enough to give him a rough sketch. He didn't dare look back. He knew if he did, even just for a second, he would come to a staggering halt. He couldn't do that. Not when _Scott_ needed him. Not when International Rescue needed _him_. When a train full of people, whatever their current state, _needed_ him.

He tried to cut off the pathway his brain made to the words 'current state'. He didn't want to dare think or imagine what would be in those carriages, however exact it could end up being, because it was risky, dangerous, saddening, weakening, _crushing_. He knew it couldn't exactly be easy for anyone in there, dying or alive. The only ones who would know nothing were the dead, and still about that you could not find any happiness. They might not have died peacefully – most likely they didn't – and someone was going to feel the backlash of that. If they had any family or friends who cared about them…

It was a dark path to walk, one he knew he should never have let his mind wander down. He shut his eyes, stumbling for a second over the terrain as he took a deep breath. _Pull it together, Alan._ He could do this. He just had to keep his mind from those dark dwellings, avoid those depressing and draining thoughts. If he could just keep moving, keep the routes which would affect him blocked off, well then he may just stand a chance at being of some use, of maintaining his sanity.

He opened his eyes, the darkness acting as a buffer for his pupils, but not a welcoming presence for his return.

He realised he was walking with no known destination other than _Scott,_ and that he (unfortunately) couldn't be used as a homing beacon. Not from down here anyhow. He tapped at his wrist communicator to activate the holo-screen, feeling that he needed a safe, comforting blanket of some sort back – and direction, "John, where to?"

He was sure his voice had u-turned, no longer steady and confident, but whistled and unsteady. Of course, the perfect balance existed, something which it seemed the red-head could always find for each of them, to match _exactly_ their current tones. John's voice shifted and changed like the tides; for four entirely separate tides. He sometimes wondered if they really were like the four marked corners of their island, with their spaceman as the centre of gravity – ironically.

"Can you see the front of the train?" He had to blink a few times again to pinpoint it, but he located it soon enough. Luckily, it didn't look like it was in too much of a state. Not like the centre of the train, which he was desperately trying to keep shielded, far out of his field of vision. He noticed John frown for a moment before a fog seemed to clear and he figured his elder brother knew what he was seeking to avoid.

"Yes." He tried to sure up his voice. He should at least be able to do this.

"Head towards it. Look for the first carriage. Scott managed to get someone out a few minutes ago, so there may be a near crowd."

John wasn't far wrong. A bunch of policemen stood staring at the carriage as though waiting for a surprise Jack-in-the-box to appear. A little further behind them was an ambulance crew, buzzing and moving like flittering birds. He made no move to keep watching them, for multiple valid reasons; he didn't have the time, he didn't want to see _whatever_ there would be, even if it would give him a hint as to what he'd face up ahead. Still, it was very telling location wise. He took a deep breath and tried to fill his whole body with confidence. He'd be fine now he knew where he was going, now he knew Scott was going to be close.

 _You can do this._ He kept repeating it, knowing it would be his only hope.

"I think I can find it." He tried to imitate what he saw Scott do all the time, when he gave orders under pressure and never seemed to falter; when he squared his shoulders and spoke with a voice strong as stone. He didn't think it worked half as well as when his eldest brother did such, but it was enough to make him feel like the bravado wasn't thoroughly false. "Update Gordon."

"Call if you need me." He knew he could, and he could talk to John endlessly about anything throughout the course of this rescue (mainly for his own health) with ease, but he was going to plan on doing neither. This was where he was needed, on the front line, so that was where all of his attentions had to be diverted if he was going to have any success, _no bad phrasing…_ to be of any use. That was better.

"I will." With that assurance John disappeared from his sight. He hoped he wouldn't be left alone in the silence for long. It wasn't soundless of course, not in the slightest, but it felt like being stuck in a vacuum.

No one made to stop him as he moved towards the wreck, and it was at times like these when he became immensely glad of their uniforms. For a simple thing, it did and meant so much. It was just one piece of what represented International Rescue in the busy world, something they were recognised by.

He finally managed to make it close enough to the train to try and access his way up. He rested against the metal, the underside of the carriage looking to be an incredibly dangerous set up where some of it had been stripped away, pieces left hanging and strewn at all angles. He hated to think that anyone was in there, let alone his own family, not to mention the fact that he'd be joining him, Gordon and Virgil joining them… He'd come to worry recently in these situations what could happen to them all, and if anything did, what John would do. Up there alone… he really would be if anything drastically terrible befell them.

He took a deep breath, cleared his mind and looked to start again.

It took him a moment to establish exactly how he was meant to climb up to the new roof and many close calls for a tumble. He realised in the end he'd have to take it one kit as a time, carrying the green unit by his teeth, requiring both hands to pull himself up. It wasn't an ideal situation – when was it when International Rescue were required? – and he'd have to go up and down a few times in order to lug them all up before he could even think about heading in to help Scott.

It didn't mean, however, that he couldn't make his presence known. Once he finished straining and knew he was securely resting on the roof, locating the doorway was easy. Looking in didn't take much more effort either, he just had to position his hands in the right place to avoid some disrupted shards of metal. Yet, it was harder to locate Scott with the inside of the carriage being so dim. This was why he and Gordon had brought all those extra torches. Well, Gordon had been the one to pick them up, the one to think instinctively and he was glad of that now. He had about five strapped to his belt, all of them fitted with Brains' well-developed long-life LED spotlights. He'd always griped at Virgil that they held the keys, smaller versions of the giant he had to lug around; right now, he'd give anything to have his big brother's torch slung over his shoulder. He supposed it was typical for the emergency lighting to either be rubbish or have cut out.

It was a selfish thought, but one which gave him a moment of respite. If the lights were out, the torches were needed - and he was almost glad they would be needed now, because the whole journey and attempt to get up here, they'd been whacking into his leg. Not to mention the about of extra batteries he was carrying right now. For they were strangely heavy things. He'd have to mention the design fault to Brains. An investment for the future, just like International Rescue had been for their father, for them, for the world.

His mind couldn't be cleared, but a specific nag forced its way to the forefront. He needed to be down there.

"Scott?" He knew he sounded a little breathless, but the elder didn't seem to notice – or choose to pay attention. There were likely other things on his mind, in fairness, and noticing that his youngest brother was slightly out of puff, probably didn't even make the top ten when usually it would be higher up.

"Alan?" There was a bounce in the pilot's voice though, and he supposed that was new. It was a good sign though. Not that he could see the brunette yet.

"The one and only." It was a bad joke, a Gordon level joke, and he silently cursed himself for using it so unconsciously. Though Scott seemed to turn to light laughter almost instantly, so all was resolved in his mind. If the eldest could see the bright side of their family humour in a time like this too, then maybe not all was lost after all.

"About time little brother." Scott was still mostly all voice, no body, but there was a slight shape to his stature pushing through the darkness, an outline he could probably only recognise because he knew the shape of his brother so well. Off by heart, was better terminology. He had to smile, although told himself they were likely better kept for out here, in the rapidly darkening cold world.

He wondered what it would be like down _there_. It seemed just as dark from above, whether it was warm he couldn't tell. It definitely seemed claustrophobic. He wasn't even sure he wanted to venture down there, though he knew he must.

"Yeah. Hold on a minute. I'll be back."

He knew Scott would likely wonder where he was going, and he also knew he'd be more than a minute, but it was the easiest – and best sounding – of the things he could have said. Jumping down was definitely easier than clawing upwards, however he supposed that was to be expected. It probably took him at least a couple of minutes to make it back up with the bundles of first aid kits, but after a while he'd managed to make a green stack beside him on the roof, and it made him feel a lot better. He was glad he didn't drop any of them when on his way up considering it would have added more trips. Luckily, he managed to do it in the fewest possible and the quickest he hoped. How long it had been he didn't know. Where Scott still was he didn't entirely know. He took the closest torch from his belt and switched it on, flicking the small light down into the abyss. After a moment he came across blue, the same blue which clothed him. He kept his focus there and eventually Scott's face came into view, the eldest clearly having realised it was easier for him to step into the light than for him to move it.

He was glad. He'd feared moving it too far for chance of what he might glimpse. He knew he'd have no choice but to face it once he was down there, but he had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he were to see it now, he would never go below. And Scott _needed_ him. Or help, for the short straw, not necessarily his of course. Virgil would definitely be more use to them now.

He spared a moment for a quick glance across the land, being higher up now, he did wonder if he might be able to spot the green and blue contrast… but there was nothing. No approaching Virgil, no decent view either.

 _Come on, Virgil._

Scott would just have to make do with his help for now: he would just have to steel his courage and hope the front held.

"I've got the first aid kits. Shall I chuck a few down?" He didn't particularly want to whack anyone – not that it would be the worst thing to fall on you – yet that door didn't like the easiest of things to navigate back up from. And this was the problem with things falling on their sides. No easy access. He could only wish Virgil would hurry it up.

"I don't think they'll be much use, but you might as well." He didn't wait and simply started to throw them through the gap. Scott made no protests, nor did anyone else (still, not exactly easy to say what he was expecting to hear), so he continued, throwing them a few at a time. When he had none left to throw, Scott's face returned to his torch light. "I'd much rather a second pair of hands."

That was what he intended to be, and as much as it scared him (diving into the deep like this) he had no qualms in joining his brother. He let that be the thing which motivated him to take the plunge. Still, he took a large swallow of the air above, because it assuredly wasn't going to have much quality down there – if much of it in itself.

"Ok, I'm coming down." He switched the torch off, clipping it back to his belt as he reached his hands out once more. He figured he'd be able to make it down without a torch, especially as it would have to be kept in his grip, which would only make it a harder task to achieve. No, he could definitely manage without it. A good, strong hold was much more important. He fixed his hands tightly on either side of the open door, clenching tightly until his knuckles were white, before slipping his legs through the gap. After that, he figured it was as simple as dropping down into the abyss.

His moves had been fluent, taken only mere seconds, and he was already releasing the grip of his hands, as his brother's voice travelled, "Ok, but Alan, hold on, I'll come meet you, there's-"

Scott's words didn't really filter through his hearing. Not in enough time anyway. By the time he figured the eldest had actually spoken aloud, and _not_ in his head, he'd already jumped through, letting go of the metal he'd gripped hold of. He knew something was wrong instantly when he fell further than he'd expected and in the darkness. Of course, he had no real idea as to where he was supposed to end up, but he'd imagined a solid surface appearing beneath his feet. All he knew was that he landed eventually with a crash, a splintering vibration throughout his form, which seemed to cage all movement for a momentary spell. Sparks still seemed to be settling, pins and needles running through his entire body, making it hard to tell what had or hadn't happened. He wasn't even sure which way up he was, or exactly where. Finally, his eyes caught track of a small beam of moving light, the slight sound of echoing footsteps and eventually a very reassuring voice.

"I didn't say that quick enough, did I?"

"No." He grumbled. Surely Scott knew how impulsive he was by now? But then again, maybe that made it his fault… he dismissed he thought.

He knew though, it probably should have sparked bells, why his brother had to move in order to get to him, because surely he should have dropped straight down and landed before the pilot? Ok, it was a scene from a comic book which he was envisioning, the landing on the feet without harm thing, but he'd at least expected some of it to work.

He groaned, attempting to sit up. Scott knelt beside him and soon the light was giving him an idea as to where he was. Definitely the front of the carriage. He thought for a moment his head was spinning, but of course there would be seats above him. Really, what was he expecting?

 _The bloody thing's on its side Alan! Idiot._

The seats were empty, he could make that out as he reached towards his belt to unhook a torch of his own. Flicking it on, he realised the first aid kits had softened the fall for his back – luckily. He figured he could only be thankful that Scott had clearly chosen to throw them here. Continuing to travel the warm, white circle, he noticed a line hanging above him, and wondered if that's what Scott had been going to tell him about: the easy way down it seemed as he briefly studied it. He wasn't even sure quite where his feet had ended up in their tangle of limbs, but he could feel the seats at the end of his feet. He was guessing he was meant to use the chairs as his way down, the line as his slide, as opposed to merely leaping.

He shook his head and was glad to notice that nothing seemed to be wrong with himself from a quick, improvised mental scan. He couldn't notice anything being out of place, although he imagined he'd find a fair share of bruises later, and quite possibly some aches for a few days, but nothing serious was available to note and he knew that should be savoured as luck. He could still be of some help to Scott with aches and pains, bruises and knocks. He'd fear for a moment he'd have completely screwed up, but it seemed everything was going to pan out.

He was just a little shaken up. _Just a little shaken._

Scott waited with him for a moment whilst he recovered his bearings, a welcomed hand sitting on his shoulder. When he spoke, his tone was colder than it had been before, but perhaps only because the excitement at seeing his brother had likely been drained from it when he tumbled. After all, with the day they were having, the eldest was probably expecting him to have broken his neck or something else extreme in the fashion of the day. Likely, there was guilt creeping in too.

"Sorry."

He shook off the apology (because it was his fault really for not waiting) and began to dust off his uniform a little, patting himself down to check for injury as he went. He should have known it wouldn't be a simple job of jumping down, especially not into a dark pit. That was just stupid of him. He should have waited. Any sensible or sane person would have waited. _What happened to_ not _messing up, Alan?_ He'd barely even been here for the best part of five minutes. He knew the eldest was waiting in silent questioning, silent likely for good reasoning. It wouldn't do to go spooking those they were supposed to be rescuing by making it clear their supposed rescuers couldn't even do the job properly. He nodded his head, trying to assure Scott that he was just fine. He was here to help his brother and to help the masses. He just had to pick himself back up, dust of the dirt and get back in the saddle again – that was what their father had always taught them, because the time you don't get up, will be the time you never do that thing ever again.

Scott seemed able to take this for what it was though and tapped him on the back, as though the situation was different; it was the sort of 'do you want a brotherly swim' tap. It was a simple thing, but it made him feel calmer all of a sudden for reasons he couldn't verbalise, considering they were instinctive reactions really. The words which rolled from his tongue were easily as simple, but held the same effect – motivating, calming, empowering, settling. It was the perfect balance that Scott seemed capable of restoring whenever they were out on missions.

"Come on then. There's still a lot do to here."

"Long evacuation?" It wasn't at all in question, but putting it to Scott in that form would make the answer a simplified version too, and right now a little bit of simplicity was everything. It would give him a rough sketch of what they were facing, even though he already had a painted picture. It would just be a subtle touch. And that could go a long, long way in these situations.

"Longer than you think." He could only echo the message, _why did it have to be the metro?_ Trains were always busy enough without it being the rush hour service. So much for the easy life they'd been trying to live out on the island today. He would curse Gordon for opening his mouth, but then he was sure his brother had already felt that enough today for himself without him adding to the pile. Scott was sounding exhausted already, and he was struggling to think of any decent jokes, so he decided it was best to go with the practical approach.

"Let's get back to it then." He couldn't sit around forever, and he had no intention to. John had only filled in him briefly on the events occurring during their journey here, but it sounded as though Scott had already started performing miracles. He couldn't hold him back, and he knew from the tired tones already pushing through to the pilot's voice, that he needed someone to assist him if they were to continue on that road.

Scott smiled, and he would take that expression for all it was worth. In a situation like this, it was rare any of them would smile, but for family they could sometimes manage it. Even then, they were moments to hold onto, and he did, gratefully to each and every single one.

"Come on. Oh and Alan," He glanced back up to Scott, the elder towering above him now he'd made it back to his feet. " _Follow_ me this time." He nodded, certain that he would be. He didn't want any more (later to be) embarrassing material to be developed from this rescue. Not to mention, he wanted it to actually _be_ a rescue, not a case of him messing everything up. He needed to be working in tandem with Scott the way they could when trying to avoid a shopping trip with Grandma until Virgil was fenced into it.

With that as his energy, he carefully pulled himself up onto his feet, torch in hand, the extra light casting just about enough for basic sight between himself and Scott. Even with the elder's light dimming as he headed away. He realised that he might have spoken too soon about messing everything up though, for as soon as he was on his feet, ready to take a step, he was tumbling back down again.

"Ow!"

As soon as the sound left his mouth, he regretted it, wished it could have been kept inside his head. It was hardly contained though and he knew – before anything had to be said – that it had bounced around the metal shell – it would have to be the perfect container for bouncing sound, wouldn't it? The best of all drums.

"What?" Scott's voice initially sounded further away, but the sound of footsteps soon came closer and within a matter of seconds the pilot had knelt beside him. He gestured down towards his feet, still trying to continue on the premise Scott had set up – do not panic everyone. He was beginning to panic himself though and as Scott swung his torchlight around that feeling only intensified.

It really, really wasn't a good day. It was definitely turning out to not be theirs. His heart sunk at the thought and he saw Scott's shoulder's sag as he turned to his eldest brother, desperate for some kind of moral support. This just wasn't going well after all. And he just had to make it worse by rushing in…

"Oh, that's all we need."

In this case, with Scott he had to agree.

* * *

Leave a review if you have the time? They do make me write faster, overused as that point is, they really do :)


End file.
